Growing Up Black
by Elvendork Nigellus
Summary: What if Harry had been rescued from the Dursleys at age six and raised as the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient, etc.? This is the story of Aries Sirius Black. AU. Part I complete. Part II in progress.
1. Part I: Chapter 1

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

* * *

Chapter 1

Marius Black pulled his Aston Martin to an easy stop directly in front of number four, Privet Drive. He let out a deep sigh.

'For heaven's sake, Marius,' his wife chided him. 'If you didn't want to come this evening, why on earth did you accept the Muggles' invitation?'

'Bentley says that Dursley has talent,' Marius replied. 'He thinks we should give the account to Grunnings.'

Clytemnestra Black sniffed haughtily. Marius chuckled. Squibs they both might be—a disgrace to their families—but his wife had never lost her pureblood pride.

'I hardly see why we should trouble ourselves to meet with him,' she said. 'Why didn't you send Bentley?'

Marius sighed again. His wife refused to understand how these things worked.

'The Dursleys invited us, my dear,' he replied evenly. 'Would you have me insult the Muggle?'

His wife grinned maliciously. 'Do you really want to know what I should prefer to do to the audacious Muggle? Really, for some middling Muggle scum to presume to invite Marius Black to dinner…it boggles the mind.'

That was enough. Marius turned on his wife with a ferocious gleam in his eye.

'Fine,' he spat. 'Why don't we pay a visit to Malfoy Manor, then? I'm sure Abraxas will be simply delighted to see his dear Squib sister.'

Clytemnestra turned pale, but she said nothing more as she gathered her mink about her and exited the car. Marius' heart sank. He cared for his wife deeply, and it hurt him to cause her pain, but every now and then she needed to be reminded exactly what they were. She tended to forget why it was that they had to put up with all these miserable Muggles in the first place.

Marius got out of the car and offered his arm to his wife. She refused to take it, but marched ahead to the Dursleys' door. He followed her and rapped smartly on the door three times with his silver-topped cane. Dursley opened the door.

'Good evening, Mr and Mrs Black!' he exclaimed. 'What an honour for us to have you in our humble home. Allow me to present my lovely wife, Petunia, and our son, Dudley.'

Marius forced himself to smile as he raised the horsey-faced woman's over-large hand to his lips and ruffled the hair of her whale of a son.

'Charmed,' Marius said drily. 'You have a fine family, Mr Dursley.'

Clytemnestra cleared her throat loudly beside him. Marius ignored her.

'May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Black?' the fat boy asked. Marius could hear the boredom in his tone, and wondered how much the brat was being paid to act appropriately this evening. He removed his overcoat and hat and placed them in the boy's outstretched arms.

'Thank you, my lad,' he said, then turned and glared at his wife until she removed her mink and dropped it over the boy as carelessly as if he were a house-elf.

'Won't you step into the parlour, Mrs Black?' the woman asked Clytemnestra, who was visibly suppressing a great many snide remarks.

'Thank you, Mrs Dursley,' she drawled.

'Oh, please, call me Petunia,' the woman replied.

Marius stifled a chuckle. Clytemnestra looked at the woman as though she were a bit of manure that had appeared on the tip of her shoe.

'I prefer Mrs Dursley,' she said coldly.

Dursley laughed nervously at that and began to wave them all into the parlour.

'What would you care to drink?' he asked.

Before they could leave the hallway, Marius heard a loud sneeze. He turned around. It seemed to him that it was coming from the cupboard under the stairs. Then he heard a small voice berating himself in a harsh whisper. If Marius hadn't been so surprised, he would have laughed. It sounded just like a house elf. But how could there possibly be a house elf in this Muggle home? He decided to investigate.

'If you'll excuse me, Mr and Mrs Dursley,' he said, stepping briefly into the parlour. 'I was wondering where I might freshen up.'

'Oh!' Mr Dursley exclaimed, as though stunned that such an important man as Mr Black might need to relieve himself occasionally. 'In the hallway, right across from the cupboard under the stairs.'

'Excellent,' Marius replied with a wry smile. 'I shall return presently.'

The haughty Squib then slid quietly over to the cupboard and knocked on the door. No one responded.

'It's no use hiding, you know,' he whispered. 'I heard you.'

He heard a quiet gasp.

'What is your name?' Marius pressed.

'Harry,' a small voice murmured.

Marius' face went white. That was a boy locked in the cupboard. What did the Muggle oaf think he was playing at?

'Are you Dursley's boy?' he demanded.

'No, sir,' the timid voice whispered. 'I'm Harry Potter. Please don't tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia you heard me. I'll get in really bad trouble.'

Marius' eyes went wide. Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter? He stood up in a fury.

'DURSLEY!' he roared. 'GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE IN HERE!'

The large man came blustering in. His face was purple. Clearly Marius had crossed some sort of line.

'What's the meaning of this?' Dursley demanded. 'You can't just stride into my home, insult me, and order me about.'

'You have a boy locked in that cupboard,' Marius said simply. 'He says his name is Harry Potter.'

Clytemnestra let out a small gasp.

'It's our nephew,' Dursley said smoothly. 'He's very disturbed. Dangerous, really.'

'And that's why you keep him locked up in a cupboard?' Marius asked incredulously. 'Let him out. I wish to speak with him.'

Dursley began to bluster again. 'What right do you have…?'

'Let him out,' Marius repeated calmly. 'Or I shall be certain to bring this matter up at our dinner with the Prime Minister next Thursday.'

Dursley shut up quickly. He took out his key ring and fiddled around with the keys until he found the one that unlocked the cupboard. He swung open the door, but the boy did not come out. Marius knelt down in the opening and looked at the boy closely. His eyes narrowed. There was no doubt that this was his great-nephew. He looked exactly like Dorea's son. If anyone could see that, it was Marius. After all, his sisters were the only members of the family besides Uncle Phineas who had bothered to keep up with him after his involuntary exile. Marius' eyes shot up to the boy's forehead. There it was, as plain as day—the infamous scar. Marius stood up and glared at Dursley.

'You filthy Muggle!' he snarled. 'You dare to keep Harry Potter locked up in a cupboard?'

'He's a freak,' Dursley mumbled. 'He's dangerous.'

'Is it really him?' Clytemnestra asked her husband quietly. Marius nodded at his wife, who then proceeded to slap Dursley across his bloated face. 'That boy is no freak,' she scolded. 'He may well be the greatest wizard the world has ever known!'

Mrs Dursley gasped. 'You're part of_ their_ lot, aren't you?'

Marius turned his angry glare on the hideous woman. 'I'll not put up with this nonsense for another moment. From this point forward, Mr Potter will come live with me.'

'Now hold on,' Dursley began to protest, but shut up when Clytemnestra slapped him again.

Marius knelt down again in the doorway of the cupboard.

'Harry,' he said gently, holding out his hand. 'Would you like to leave this horrid place? You can come live with me, you know. I'm your dad's uncle.' He chuckled softly. 'You look just like him.'

Harry hesitated for a moment, but then he took the elderly man's hand and came out of the cupboard.

'Oh, that poor boy,' Clytemnestra moaned, and rushed over to his side. She pulled Harry into an affectionate, but respectably distant embrace. 'He doesn't even have proper clothes, Marius.'

'We'll fix that,' Marius said firmly. 'Take Harry out to the car, my dear.'

Clytemnestra took Harry's hand and led him outside. Dursley made no protest.

'I have a deal to make with you, Muggle,' Marius spat. 'You tell no one about what happened here tonight, and I'll not report you to the authorities for child abuse.' He paused and considered, then smiled nastily. 'Or turn you all into frog spawn.'

Mrs Dursley fainted at that. Marius took the opportunity to collect their coats and slip out the door, a wide smile on his handsome face. After all, the Dursleys didn't know he was a Squib.

That evening was the best Harry had ever experienced. First off, his dream had come true. He really did have a rich uncle, and that uncle at long last had came to rescue him from the Dursleys. Then he got to ride in a magnificent car next to his new Aunt Clytemnestra, who doted on him while Uncle Marius explained a bit about how they were related to Harry. They drove to a magnificent country estate. When they got there, Harry's new aunt ushered him into the house, where a maid named Dawson had given him a wonderfully hot bubble bath before dressing him in silk pyjamas that almost fit. They were a bit threadbare, but they were far better than anything Harry had ever worn before.

'These belonged to Master Castor,' Dawson explained as she helped Harry get dressed. Harry didn't know who that was, but he was grateful that Master Castor had been a bit closer to his size than Dudley. Then Dawson took Harry down to the kitchen, where the cook served him an enormous supper together with Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra. Not only did they let him eat as much as he wanted, they even gave him ice cream afterwards.

But the best part came when Aunt Clytemnestra led Harry up to an enormous bedroom filled with beautiful antique furniture.

'This is your bedroom, Harry,' Aunt Clytemnestra said.

Harry's eyes went wide. There must be some mistake. All this couldn't be for him. But Harry made no objection as his new aunt led him over to the gigantic four-poster feather bed with loads of fluffy pillows and actually tucked him in and patted him gingerly on the head.

'Good night, Harry,' his aunt said.

'Good night, Aunt,' Harry whispered back, and Aunt Clytemnestra left the room and turned out the lights.

It took Harry a very long time to fall asleep. That was partly because he wasn't used to being so warm, comfortable, and well-fed. But mostly it was because he was absolutely certain that he was dreaming, and he never wanted it to end.


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 2

The next day after lunch, Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra put Harry into their car and drove to London. Along the way, Uncle Marius explained to Harry about magic, how he was a wizard and came from a long line of noble wizards, and how an evil wizard had murdered Harry's parents when he was a baby, failing to kill Harry in the process. Harry listened to his uncle's explanation with rapt attention. The Dursleys had told him that his parents had died in a car crash because his father was drunk. As would any sensible person, and particularly any six-year-old boy, Harry found the tale of his parents' heroic death at the hands of a Dark Lord far more satisfying. The news that Harry himself was a hero, however, and now revered by many throughout the wizarding world, was...disconcerting.

'But if I'm really so famous, how come no one noticed how I was being treated by the Durs-, er, the filthy Muggles?' Harry asked. Aunt Clytemnestra had explained to Harry that Muggles, people like the Dursleys who hated magic, were brutish swine who forced witches and wizards to live in hiding. That certainly accorded with Harry's own experiences.

Uncle Marius frowned. 'I have no doubt that Albus Dumbledore, a very powerful wizard, has been keeping careful watch over you. I don't know why he has allowed this nonsense to go on, but I am certain he has some political motivation.'

Harry wasn't sure that he liked Albus Dumbledore that much, not if he was the sort of person who would leave him with the Muggles for so long. Then a horrible thought stuck him.

'If he's been checking on me, he's bound to know you've taken me.' Harry began to panic. 'He'll send me back.'

Aunt Clytemnestra calmed him by patting his shoulder. 'Don't worry, Harry. If he already knew what we had done, he would have acted last night, or this morning. We are taking steps to cover our tracks, so that he'll never be able to find you. Your uncle paid another visit to the brutes this morning, and poured a bit of Forgetfulness Draught into their tea. They won't be able to tell Dumbledore anything.'

'Your aunt and I are Squibs,' Uncle Marius explained. 'We come from magical families, but we can't use magic, otherwise we should simply perform a memory charm. Nonetheless, we do have connexions with the magical world. There are potions we can use to change your appearance, and we'll change your name too, so that no one will know who you are.'

'Once we've taken care of that, we shall raise you in the wizarding world, as ought to be done,' Aunt Clytemnestra said fondly. 'We shall find you a magical tutor, and train you in all the details of wizarding life.' She began to stare wistfully out the window, and daubed her eyes with her handkerchief.

Harry nodded. He believed them, but shifted closer to his aunt anyway. He did not want to lose his new-found family.

When they arrived at number seventeen, Windermere Court, Harry's aunt raised the collar of his coat and pulled down his hat before letting him leave the car. She held his hand as they walked up the many steps to the entrance. The door had twenty-seven different locks, all of which unlocked simultaneously when Uncle Marius placed his hand on the doorknob. Aunt Clytemnestra bustled Harry inside and shut the door.

Harry had never seen such a house. It was as elegantly appointed as Uncle Marius's country home had been, though the wall hangings and furniture were rather faded. But the entire house seemed so _alive_. The many portraits that lined the walls moved and talked, and countless magical artefacts filled the rooms, occasionally making odd noises or puffing coloured smoke into the air. But the strangest thing at all about the house was its caretaker.

A little bald creature appeared in front of them out of thin air, dressed only in a tea towel. She bowed low.

'Mopsy is delighted to see her Master and Mistress Black,' she said. 'Will Master and Mistress be staying long?'

'Yes, we intend to,' said Uncle Marius. 'Kindly run along and fix up the master bedroom and the largest of the ordinary bedrooms.'

Mopsy bowed and vanished.

'That was a house elf,' Aunt Clytemnestra explained to Harry. 'They find their greatest joy in serving wizards and taking care of their needs. Mopsy has served your uncle's family for over a hundred years.'

Harry gaped. He had lived for only six years, and remembered fewer. The thought of a hundred years was nearly overwhelming. Uncle Marius chuckled at his expression.

'This house belonged to my Uncle Phineas,' he explained. 'Uncle Phineas was the one who saw to my education after I was disowned...er, after I discovered that I was unable to do magic. He never married, and had no children, so he left the house to me when he died.'

'It's wicked,' Harry said with a grin. Uncle Marius tousled his hair.

'I'm glad you like it.'

Aunt Clytemnestra removed her coat and went to the larder to begin taking inventory, but Uncle Marius led Harry to a storage room that was crammed with portraits and furniture.

'When your parents went into hiding,' he explained, 'they did not have room for all of your grandparents' belongings, so they placed some of them here. There's someone I want you to meet before we do anything else.'

He brought Harry in front of a large portrait of a young couple. It looked like it was their wedding day. The man wore very stiff black robes, and the woman wore a white dress and carried a bouquet of flowers. The man looked very much like Harry, sharing his messy black hair and glasses. The woman had red hair and Harry's green eyes.

'Are these my parents?' Harry asked in awe.

'This is their wedding portrait,' Uncle Marius said. He addressed the portrait. 'James, Lily, I want you to meet your son, Harry James Potter.'

'Harry? You're so big!' James exclaimed. 'How old are you now? Four?'

'I'm six!' Harry said proudly.

'Six already? Practically a man,' his father beamed. 'And quite a good-looking one too.'

Harry smiled.

'How are you, Harry? Have you been well taken care of?' his mother asked, concern shining in her brilliant eyes.

Harry hesitated, and Uncle Marius spoke up for him. 'That's what we're here to talk about,' he said. 'Up until now, Harry has been living with some unpleasant Muggles known as the Dursleys.'

'Petunia?' Lily turned white. 'What did she do?'

'They kept him locked in a cupboard and generally mistreated him,' Uncle Marius said coldly. 'I discovered him quite by accident, and took him away.'

'Thanks, Uncle Mar,' James said, breathing a sigh of relief. 'We owe you one.' He looked at Uncle Marius questioningly. 'Why didn't Sirius take Harry in? He's his godfather.'

Uncle Marius took a deep breath. 'Sirius is in Azkaban.'

'WHAT?' Harry's parents shouted in unison. 'Why?' his mother added.

'For betraying you to the Dark Lord, and for the murder of Peter Pettigrew,' Uncle Marius explained.

Harry was horrified at that news, and so was shocked when his father burst out laughing.

'Sirius, betray us to Voldemort?' he snorted. Uncle Marius winced. 'That's ridiculous. Sirius is the last person on earth who would betray us.'

Uncle Marius sighed. 'I agree with you, but the evidence seems to point in the other direction.'

James shook his head. 'There must be some other explanation. Imperius, perhaps?'

'Perhaps,' Uncle Marius said, 'but that is not actually the most pressing issue at the moment. Our concern is for Harry. If anyone learns that we removed him from the Muggles, he will be sent back to them, and Clytemnestra and I shall likely join Sirius in prison.'

'Why don't you disguise Harry?' Lily suggested.

'That is my intention, but I want you two and Harry to give your imprimatur. I intend to tell the world that Harry is the only son of Sirius Black and Regina Malfoy, Clytemnestra's niece. We shall say he was born when Regina was in hiding in France. Regina died in a tragic accident a month ago, and Sirius is in Azkaban, so neither can object.'

'How are you going to explain that they didn't tell anyone about Harry?' James asked.

'We'll say that Sirius and Regina married secretly because of the political differences between Sirius and her brother Lucius. Regina actually did spend the past several years in France precisely because she disagreed with her brother's positions, so that, at least, is credible. Regina also stayed in close contact with Clytemnestra, so it will be simple enough for us to say that she entrusted us with the boy in her will.'

'You'll have to forge a lot of documents,' James pointed out.

Uncle Marius nodded. 'Already in process.'

'What about Harry's appearance?' Lily asked. 'He looks just like James.'

'You'll have to change his name, too, and not just for show,' James added. 'You can call always him something different, but unless you do something official, the Hogwarts letter will still come addressed to Harry Potter. Dumbledore will figure it out.' He paused. 'There's also paternity tests, and so on.'

Uncle Marius hesitated, and looked back and forth between the portrait and Harry. 'This is why I wanted your blessing, James and Lily. There is a potion I can have brewed—I have an excellent potioneer who asks no questions—which will change Harry's name and appearance effortlessly. Paternity spells and lineage tests will all agree with the new identity.' He swallowed hard. 'But the potion is highly illegal, and may not be reversible.'

James and Lily frowned and looked at each other before speaking in unison. 'Do it,' they said.

Uncle Marius looked surprised. 'Are you certain?'

Lily nodded. 'We want Harry to grow up in a family that loves him, and to be safe.' She smiled. 'We'll always be Harry's parents, no matter what he looks like.'

'Sirius would want this too.' James grinned mischievously. 'Since he got himself tossed in Azkaban it's the least he can do.'

Uncle Marius turned to Harry. 'What do you think?'

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded. 'I won't go back to the Muggles,' he mumbled.

'I do have one request,' James piped up. 'Let us pick his new name.'

Neither Uncle Marius nor Harry had any objections to that, so James and Lily set to work instantly, borrowing an Astronomy book from Phineas Black's portrait in the library.

* * *

On a late night six days later, Harry sat in an upstairs room, nodding off in a plush armchair whilst he waited for Uncle Marius to return. Aunt Clytemnestra was at the country manor, organising the final details of their move to London. Mopsy the house elf had finished organising the house at number seventeen, Windermere Court, and Harry had spent most of the week conversing with his parents' portrait. Two days before, Aunt Clytemnestra had brought over a portrait of Regina Malfoy and explained the situation to it. The portrait had been shocked at the circumstances under which Harry had grown up, and readily agreed to assist in any way it could., though she laughed at the idea that she would have a child with Sirius Black, a man she had got on quite well with, but never viewed romantically, much to the chagrin of Sirius's mother. James and Lily's portrait had helped Regina to make an Unbreakable Vow not to tell anyone the truth about Harry's identity. (Uncle Marius explained that if a human tried to break an Unbreakable Vow he would die, but a portrait would simply be reduced to a blank canvas.) Regina told Harry all sorts of stories and other things he should know about her, and Harry practiced calling her 'Mum,' and his real parents 'Uncle James' and 'Aunt Lily,' since it had been agreed that they would be listed as his godparents.

As for Sirius Black, who was to be Harry's dad, it seemed that in the wizarding world portraits only began to talk once the people depicted had died, so Harry had no opportunity to speak with him. James's portrait, however, was more than happy to tell Harry stories about Sirius, and Uncle Marius managed to obtain a number of photographs, from which a handsome man with long, black hair waved happily. Harry made a point always to refer to Sirius as 'Dad.' It wouldn't do for him to forget. They were playing a very dangerous game.

When the door flew open and Uncle Marius finally walked in, a large flask in his hand, Harry thought he looked utterly exhausted.

'Do you want to wait and do this tomorrow?' Harry asked in concern.

Uncle Marius shook his head wearily. 'You have to drink the potion at the stroke of midnight,' he explained. He hung a solid silver cauldron over the fire in the fireplace and poured in the potion, which began to bubble and pop almost instantaneously. He added a bit of Harry's hair, as well as some of Regina's, which Aunt Clytemnestra had kept in an envelope, and some of Sirius's baby teeth, which Uncle Marius had narrowly managed to steal from the currently empty Black home at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He had only succeeded because Mopsy had distracted the Grimmauld Place house elf whilst the Squib slipped in under an invisibility cloak. Uncle Marius stirred the potion three times, then whipped out a piece of parchment and handed Harry a strange-looking quill.

'Write, "My name is Aries Sirius Black,"' he commanded. James and Lily had selected that name the day before.

Harry began to write and winced as he felt a pain in his hand. He continued regardless. Uncle Marius had warned him about the blood quill. When he had put the full stop, Uncle Marius took the parchment and dropped it into the potion. The parchment dissolved instantly, and the potion changed to a light gold colour. Uncle Marius poured it into a silver goblet and they waited five minutes. At 11:59 he handed Harry the goblet, and as soon as the clock began to chime Harry drank it in one long draught, finishing the whole thing just as the clock struck twelve.

Nothing happened.

'Is something wrong, Uncle Marius?' Harry asked anxiously. 'I'm not changing.'

Uncle Marius laughed. 'It will take some time for the potion to spread through your system. Now run off to bed. I daresay you'll notice some changes in the morning.'

Harry was very tired, and so did not protest as Mopsy led him to his bedroom and tucked him in to his warm feather bed, skipping the now-usual bedtime story. Harry fell asleep in seconds and had a wonderful dream in which he played all night with a large, black dog.


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 3

When Harry awoke the next morning the sun was already high in the sky. He crawled out of bed and stumbled over to the dresser, where he poured some water from the pitcher into the porcelain basin and washed his face. He automatically reached out for his glasses, but was startled to realise that he had no need of them. He could see perfectly clearly.

_The potion must have taken effect_, he thought eagerly. He looked into the mirror and let out a small shout.

A different reflection stared back at him. For a moment Harry thought it was identical to the pictures he had seen of Sirius as a boy: he had the same aristocratic features and the same easy-to-manage hair. Then he noticed subtle differences. His eyes were bright blue, like Regina's. He thought he had her ears as well. His scar was gone. Harry was surprised to find he missed it.

Harry looked down and realised that he had filled out overnight. His shoulders were broader and there were a few inches of ankle showing beneath his pyjamas. He grinned. He hadn't realised the potion would make him taller.

'Blimey,' he whispered, and almost didn't recognise his own voice. It sounded just slightly different, perhaps a bit richer. He wondered if that came from Regina. He had learnt that she had a lovely singing voice.

Harry put on some ill-fitting robes and went downstairs to the dining room, where Mopsy was already setting the table for lunch. Mopsy had been instructed on what she should expect, so she gasped only once when she saw her young master's new appearance, and then bowed low.

'Good morning, Master Aries,' she greeted him. 'Mopsy trusts Master slept well.'

Harry nodded and grinned. 'I had a big night.'

Mopsy smiled. 'Mospy can see that. Master Aries is looking very fine.'

Harry laughed. 'Thanks, Mopsy.'

Once the table was set and Harry had sat down, Uncle Marius walked into the room. He laughed aloud when he saw Harry.

'You're certainly looking well this morning,' he said exuberantly. 'It looks as though everything has gone according to plan.'

'It looks that way,' Harry agreed.

'The real test is tomorrow when we head to the Ministry to file all your paperwork,' his uncle said, sitting down at the head of the table.

Harry shifted nervously. 'Do you think that's a good idea? What if they figure it out?'

'We have to do it,' his uncle explained. 'Otherwise you'll never truly belong in the wizarding world. We didn't bring you here just to hide you away like an escaped convict. We intend to give you a proper upbringing.'

Harry squirmed. 'Couldn't we hide in the Muggle world? Dumbledore would never think to look for us there.'

Uncle Marius frowned. 'You are a wizard, my boy, and you ought to be raised as such. I'd have given my right arm for even a pinch of magical talent. I'll be damned if I let you walk away from your gift.'

'And if they figure it out?'

'They won't,' Uncle Marius assured him, and definitively changed the subject. 'You'll have to show your new appearance to your mother and godparents after we eat. They'll be delighted.'

* * *

The next morning Aunt Clytemnestra returned, having finished arranging all the final details at their Muggle residence. She seemed happy enough when she came in the door, but gasped and burst into tears when she saw Harry's new appearance. Uncle Marius rushed to her side to comfort her, whispering in her ear. Harry felt awkward. After several tense minutes Aunt Clytemnestra calmed herself down. She walked over to Harry and laid her hand on his cheek.

'You look very well, Harry,' she said quietly. 'Or should I say Aries?'

'I'm sorry I made you cry,' Harry said timidly. 'What did I do wrong?'

His aunt smiled at him softly. 'You didn't do anything at all.' She paused. 'It's only that, when I saw you, it struck me how much you looked like someone I once knew, someone I loved very much.' She gave Harry a small hug. 'Don't worry. I shan't lose control again.'

That afternoon the three of them travelled to the Ministry of Magic, armed with a formidable collection of forged documents Uncle Marius had managed to procure. It took them a while to get through the lengthy queue, and there was an embarrassing moment when Uncle Marius had to explain exactly why he and Aunt Clytemnestra had no wands to be inspected, but eventually they got through and managed to find themselves sitting in front of an ugly witch with a bored expression on her face and a nasty attitude.

'What do you want?' she demanded.

'I am Marius Black,' the elderly Squib introduced himself. 'This is my wife Clytemnestra. We have recently taken custody of our great-nephew, Aries Black, and we should like to make sure that he is registered properly as our ward.'

'Why isn't he registered already?' the bureaucrat asked, annoyed that this fellow was wasting her time.

'My great-nephew was born in France,' Uncle Marius began to explain.

'Oho,' the ugly witch exclaimed. 'So he's not a British subject. You'll have to take him to Naturalisation.'

'But Aries is a British subject,' Aunt Clytemnestra insisted. 'His parents were both British.'

The witch grumbled and took the documents Uncle Marius offered her, flipping through them without really reading them.

'Everything seems to be in order,' she mumbled. She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing. 'Wait, it says here that the boy's father is Sirius Black. _The _Sirius Black?'

'The one and only,' Uncle Marius said drily.

'I don't know about that,' the witch said hastily. 'A criminal, really. Most irregular.'

Just then a tall witch with iron-grey hair stepped into the office.

'Mrs Edgecombe, I hate to bother you again, but there seems to have been another problem with my application,' she said, completely ignoring the fact that there were others in the room. 'I simply must have my documents ready before I leave for Transylvania Wednesday next.' She stopped, suddenly noticing the presence of others in the room. 'Oh, I see you have another appointment at the moment.' Her eyes widened when she realised who it was. 'Great Merlin! It's _you_.'

Marius smiled up at his sister. 'Hello, Cassie.'

'Whatever are you doing here?' Cassiopeia Black demanded shrilly. 'I thought you spent most of your time in the Muggle world these days.'

'I did,' Uncle Marius acknowledged. 'Things change.' He indicated Harry. Cassiopeia turned her sharp glare on the boy.

'Who is this?' the witch asked. 'You surely haven't spawned again, not at your age, and not after the embarrassment of the last attempt.' She smirked. 'Unless _he_ managed to reproduce.'

Aunt Clytemnestra turned pink, but Uncle Marius only scowled.

'This is Aries,' he said coldly. 'He has recently come from France to live with us, after the tragic passing of his mother.'

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'Who was she?'

'My niece Regina,' Aunt Clytemnestra said evenly.

'Oh. And who's the father?' Cassiopeia asked.

'Sirius Black, apparently,' muttered Mrs Edgecombe, still sitting behind her desk.

'Sirius had a son?' Cassiopeia's voice was almost hungry. 'With a Malfoy? A pureblood?' She cackled. 'This is marvellous! How could you keep this news from us, Marius Alphard Black? The Black male line continues—and it's unquestionably pure! Oh, such a pity dear Walburga didn't live to see it. Pollux will be absolutely beside himself. Not to mention Arcturus.' She stopped as suddenly as she started. Her expression grew suspicious as she stared Uncle Marius in the eye. 'How can we be certain that the boy is who you say he is?'

'We have documents, Cassie,' Uncle Marius said, but Cassiopeia cut him off.

'You've lived amongst the Muggle swine for too long, Marius. What care I for your documents?'

'He looks just like Sirius,' Aunt Clytemnestra pointed out. 'Is not that sufficient proof?'

'Sufficient for you, perhaps,' Cassiopeia snarled. 'Hardly for me.' She drew her wand without warning and pointed it directly at Harry's forehead. '_Ostende paternitatem_.'

'Really, Miss Black. Dark magic in the heart of the Ministry!' Mrs Edgecombe protested feebly.

The smoky image of Sirius Black suddenly appeared above Harry's head. Cassiopeia did not hesitate, but fired a different spell.

'_Ostende maternitatem_.'

The image dissipated, transforming into the delicate features of Regina Malfoy.

'_Sanguinis status._'

Regina's image vanished, but the smoke remained, turning bright gold in colour.

'_Ostende potestam_.'

Harry's entire body glowed with a faint golden aura before fading. Cassiopeia smiled smugly before turning her attention back on Mrs Edgecombe.

'Don't just sit there gawking at your betters,' she scolded. 'Complete the boy's paperwork at once. Do you have any idea who this is?' She paused and turned to Harry, speaking to him for the first time. Harry was shocked at how gentle her voice became when she addressed him. 'Hello, dear. I'm your Auntie Cassiopeia,' she said sweetly. 'What was your name again?'

'Aries Sirius Black,' Harry said hoarsely.

Cassiopeia smiled softly. 'Such a lovely name for such a darling boy.' She twirled back toward the unfortunate Mrs Edgecombe and snarled. 'This is Aries Sirius Black. His great-grandfather is Arcturus Black, Order of Merlin, First Class. His other great-grandfather is Pollux Black, sometime Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.'

Harry could have sworn he heard Mrs Edgecombe mumble something about the dangers of inbreeding, but no one else seemed to, so he could not be certain.

'He is directly descended from Sirius Phineas Black, Minister for Magic on four separate occasions,' Cassiopeia continued. 'Not to mention the great Phineas Nigellus, the finest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever known. Surely you can manage to put in an extra bit of effort for someone of Aries' stature.'

'Whatever you say, Miss Black,' Mrs Edgecombe muttered, and began scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. She handed it to Harry, along with the other documents Uncle Marius had provided.

'Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mstr Black,' she said.

* * *

That afternoon Albus Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace of his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Flooed to the house of a Squib named Arabella Figg. Mrs Figg lived very near Privet Drive, and she had contacted Dumbledore that morning to inform him that she had not seen Harry in over a week.

'It's not altogether unheard of, Professor,' she explained once the aged wizard stepped out of the grate. 'Sometimes the boy will get in trouble and not come out for a fortnight. But this is different. The entire family disappeared for a weekend, and they didn't ask me to watch Harry.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 'This is unusual?' he asked.

'Yes, Professor,' Mrs Figg assured him. 'Mrs Dursley is worried he'll burn the house down if they leave him alone.'

'I see.' Dumbledore frowned. 'Well, I suppose I shall have to check on the boy and make sure he is well.' His eye twinkled. 'In any event, perhaps a visit from me is just the reminder they require to inspire them to treat Harry better.'

He turned on the spot and vanished, reappearing on the Dursleys' doorstep. He knocked on the door gently. Petunia Dursley opened it.

'What do you want?' she scowled. She looked him up and down in disgust. 'You're one of _them_.' It was a statement, not a question. Dumbledore inclined his head.

'I am Albus Dumbledore,' he said gently. 'We have corresponded, of course.'

Petunia turned a bit pale.

'Do you mind if I come in?' Dumbledore asked.

Petunia looked as though she minded very much, but stood aside nonetheless. Dumbledore stepped through the doorway into the immaculately clean home.

'You have a very nice home, Petunia,' he said. 'Very clean.'

Petunia nodded brusquely.

Dumbledore sighed. 'Petunia, I am here to enquire after Harry's welfare.'

'Whose?' Petunia asked blankly.

Dumbledore was startled, for the first time that day feeling genuine alarm.

'Harry Potter,' he said slowly. 'Your nephew? Lily's son?'

'Lily had a son?' Petunia seemed surprised. 'How? I thought your letter said that she died.'

Dumbledore looked Petunia directly in the eye and gently probed her thoughts. Harry was completely absent from her memories, yes, but there were traces—the unusual gaps that so often attended altered memories. In this case, he saw many such inconsistencies: Petunia walking to Mrs Figg alone, speaking with her briefly, and then returning alone, all for no apparent reason; a table set for four, even though only three were eating; Petunia opening the front door on November 1 to find an empty basket along with a letter from Dumbledore. The Headmaster frowned. He rather thought a wizard would have done a cleaner job, and, in any event, there were none of the usual signs of a Memory Charm. The only clue Dumbledore could gather from Petunia's memories was a very fancy dinner she had prepared a week before, with a great deal of hustle and bustle, for which no guests at all had arrived. The next day, Petunia had cleaned out the cupboard under the stairs, which looked as though it had been used as a bedroom for a small boy.

Dumbledore pulled out of Petunia's mind. Something had happened a week ago—someone had taken Harry. The questions, however, were too many in number for him to answer: Who? How? Whither? Wherefore? Ignoring Petunia's confused expression, Dumbledore scanned the house for any traces of amulets, Dark artefacts or potions. In another home, Dumbledore might have detected residue of Forgetfulness Draught in the teapot, and used that evidence to trace the potion to its brewer, and, perhaps, its purchaser. Petunia Dursley, however, was far too efficient a housewife to permit the remnants of any magical potion to remain in her home, and Dumbledore found nothing.

'It appears I was mistaken, Petunia,' he said softly, bowing slightly towards her as he opened the front door. 'I apologise for the intrusion.'

He left Privet Drive and returned to Mrs Figg, to whom he offered only the briefest of explanations before returning to Hogwarts. Once back at the school, he sat in his chair and reflected on the enigmatic situation. Someone had taken Harry from Privet Drive a week before. That much was certain. Dumbledore suspected that someone to be the person who had modified the Dursleys' memories, though that was only a conjecture, if a reasonable one. Whoever had modified their memories was not a very talented wizard, since he had left circumstantial evidence of Harry's existence. Moreover, he seemed not to have used a Memory Charm. Dumbledore suspected a potion, most likely a Forgetfulness Draught, though Petunia Dursley had undoubtedly destroyed the evidence too soon. Unfortunately, without knowing the means by which the perpetrator had removed Petunia's memories, Dumbledore had no way of recovering them.

When it came to questions of motive, Dumbledore was completely baffled. The protection afforded by Lily's sacrifice ought to have protected Harry from kidnapping. Had the boy left willingly? Dumbledore had reluctantly to admit the possibility. The evidence of the cupboard under the stairs suggested that the Dursleys had not treated Harry as well as one might have hoped, and the boy might easily have run off with any kind stranger who offered him a happier situation. The Headmaster frowned. He had not anticipated the possibility that the Dursleys would treat Harry so poorly, and, in retrospect, that had been foolish.

What of suspects? Death Eaters would certainly be delighted to get their hands on Harry, but Lily's protection would prevent them from setting foot in the house. That left only relatives and friends as likely candidates. Lily's only living relatives were the Dursleys. James's parents were both dead, and his father had no siblings. Dumbledore shuddered involuntarily when he considered James's mother's relatives. The thought of Pollux or Cassiopeia Black getting anywhere near Harry Potter... But both Black siblings were quite skilled enough to cast a proper Memory Charm, and Dumbledore suspected that either would rather die than defile themselves by setting foot in a Muggle residence. For that matter, he could think of no possible way they could have learnt that Harry was staying with the Dursleys. Dumbledore had the strangest feeling that he was forgetting someone, but he was certain that Pollux, Cassiopeia and Dorea were all the Black siblings. Dumbledore remembered every student he had ever taught.

That left friends, or rather, James's one remaining friend: Remus Lupin. Dumbledore would have thought Lupin capable of a decent Memory Charm, but perhaps the werewolf had never had the need to perform one before, and had preferred to use a potion. He also would have known about Lily's relatives, and might have thought to check up on Harry, despite Dumbledore's strict instructions to stay far away from Privet Drive. Dumbledore sighed. For the moment, Remus Lupin was the most likely suspect. He took out a quill and a piece of parchment and began to compose a letter to Mr Lupin.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 4

Remus Lupin sat in the Three Broomsticks and sipped butterbeer as he waited for Dumbledore to arrive. The Headmaster's vague message had said nothing about why he wished to meet, only that it was imperative for them to do so. The urgency of his tone made Remus anxious. At length he saw the familiar profile come through the door. Remus checked his watch; Dumbledore was right on time. The elderly wizard looked over the entire room briefly before settling his eyes on Remus. Something about his gaze made the werewolf uncomfortable. The customary twinkle was absent.

Dumbledore strode over to Remus's table. Remus rose to greet the Headmaster.

'Good evening, Professor,' he said politely, shaking Dumbledore's hand.

'Good evening, Remus,' Dumbledore replied. 'Do you mind if I join you?'

'Of course not, Professor. Please sit down.'

Madam Rosmerta made her way over to their table, and the Headmaster ordered a tankard of her finest mead before sitting down. Once the mead had arrived, Dumbledore thanked her, and then, once she had left, looked sharply into Remus's eyes.

'Tell me, Remus,' he said quietly. 'Had you anything to do with the disappearance of Harry Potter?'

Remus was startled. 'Harry? Harry's disappeared? What happened?'

Dumbledore looked into Remus's eyes for what seemed an eternity, but finally he seemed convinced that Remus's surprise was genuine, as he sat back in his chair and sighed.

'Yes, I am afraid Harry has been taken from his relatives' home in Surrey,' he replied sadly. 'I have been unable to determine who is responsible.'

Remus couldn't believe it. James's son—kidnapped! The werewolf was devastated. He had obeyed Dumbledore's wishes and avoided Harry these five years, but it had pained him to do it, and Remus continued to care deeply for his friend's son.

'I could never hurt Harry,' he whispered. 'I would do anything to help him.'

Dumbledore nodded gravely. 'I know. In fact, that is why I suspected you in the first place. I feared that you might have removed Harry from his relatives' care out of a misguided wish to help him.'

Remus's eyes narrowed. 'Didn't they treat him well?'

Dumbledore shook his head wearily, looking for all the world like Atlas beneath his eternal burden. 'I am afraid that they treated him very poorly indeed. I suspect that Harry may have left voluntarily with his kidnappers. It is the only way I believe they could have penetrated the defences that surround the Dursley residence.'

'Do you have any leads?'

'None.' Dumbledore's voice sounded more uncertain that Remus had ever heard it. 'The Dursleys' memories have been altered.' He laughed mirthlessly. 'They do not even remember that Harry ever existed.'

'What can I do to help?' Remus asked, his expression resolute.

'There is something,' Dumbledore said slowly. 'It is conceivable that one of the neighbours might have heard or seen something that could give us a clue. You could return to Privet Drive and make discreet enquiries.'

Remus nodded. 'I'll do it. Anything to help.'

'Excellent.' Dumbledore drained his mead and stood up to leave. 'Let me know if you learn anything of value. I have some other avenues to explore as well.' He looked resolute. 'We shall get to the bottom of this, Remus.'

Remus hesitated. 'Professor, what is to become of Harry when we find him?' He steadfastly refused to say 'if.' 'We can't send him back to his relatives, not if they really are mistreating him.'

Dumbledore looked at Remus severely. 'It is imperative that Harry return to the Dursleys' care. The fate of the entire world may well depend upon it.'

* * *

Meanwhile, at number seventeen, Windermere Court, life soon settled into a happy, if unvarying, rhythm. Aunt Clytemnestra set herself to redecorating Harry's bedroom, even allowing him to help pick the colours and the style of the furniture. The day after their visit to the Ministry, she had taken him to Twilfit and Tatting's, where she had purchased Harry more new robes (and underclothes) than he had imagined any one boy could possibly wear. The hand-me-downs he had been wearing were banished to storage, and Regina's portrait said with approval that Harry finally looked the part of her son.

Uncle Marius had officially retired from all his positions in the Muggle world, and now devoted himself full-time to Harry's upbringing. He took the bedroom next to Harry's and dedicated it as a playroom, and then took Harry to Diagon Alley in order to select toys with which to fill it. Uncle Marius was very difficult to shop with, as he tended to purchase anything if Harry so much as indicated a slight liking for it, and so Harry had to learn very quickly how to control his reactions. He did not wish to abuse his uncle's kindness.

Life at Windermere Court, in deference to the age-old traditions of the wizarding aristocracy, followed an unvarying schedule. Harry awoke at six o'clock every day, washed and dressed before taking breakfast downstairs with his aunt and uncle. After breakfast, he began his lessons promptly in the library at half-past-seven. Harry already knew how to read and write, so Aunt Clytemnestra taught him wizarding etiquette, French, Latin and arithmetic. Uncle Marius taught him history and genealogy and drilled Harry on his handwriting. (Uncle Marius wrote with a particularly beautiful script.) After lessons, he was permitted to fly his toy broomstick in the garden briefly before returning at eleven for his piano lesson, given by Aunt Clytemnestra, who had in fact once been a well-known concert pianist.

The portraits were eager to involve themselves in Harry's education. After lunch, Harry was free to play until dinnertime, and James took this time firmly in hand, chasing Harry through the house, playing hide-and-seek, showing him how to use the various toys in the playroom and teaching him the fine art of playing pranks. After dinner and his bath, Harry was supposed to read before bed, and Lily had him read her a wide range of stories, drawn from both wizarding and Muggle literature. Harry did not understand why she so enjoyed listening to his reading – he tended to pause a lot, and trip over unfamiliar words – but Lily said his voice was like music to her ears.

As for Regina, she followed Harry throughout the day – except during playtime, when James had forbidden it – and made sure he was carrying himself with proper deportment. After a couple of weeks of her unceasing commands to 'Stand up straight!' or 'Stop dawdling!' Harry found that it was actually becoming second nature to him. The first day he survived without a single correction from his supposed mother was a proud day at Windermere Court.

After reading-time had finished, Aunt Clytemnestra tucked Harry into bed and kissed him goodnight, and then turned the lights out as Regina sang him a soft lullaby. Harry always drifted off to sleep before the first chorus and slept soundly through the night, dreaming of dogs and stags and flying motorcycles.

* * *

Remus spent the next fortnight going back and forth between his parents' old house and Privet Drive, asking questions of the neighbours and taking extensive notes. Surprisingly enough, his first luck was with the Dursleys' son, Dudley. The chubby boy's parents might not have remembered Harry, but Dudley was all too eager to tell Remus about 'the freak,' at least with the proper encouragement.

'Do you remember who kidnapped Harry?' Remus asked in a friendly voice, handing the boy another chocolate bar.

'No one kidnapped him,' Dudley said, rolling his eyes. 'The man found out the freak lived in the cupboard under the stairs, and started yelling at my dad. Dad explained how Harry had to stay in the cupboard, because he's ad...ab...abnormal, and the woman slapped him.'

Remus was disturbed to find himself rooting for the kidnappers. 'What happened then?'

'The man bent down and talked to the freak.' Dudley started speaking in a babyish voice. 'He was all sweet and everything to ickle Harrykins.' Dudley grimaced. 'It was disgusting. He asked if Harry wanted to come live with him. Harry said 'yes,' and they left.'

'Do you remember anything else?' Remus asked.

'Oh yeah, the old man said that if we said anything he'd come back and turn us all into frog spawn.' Dudley turned white suddenly. He seemed to have previously forgotten that part. He shut up completely. No amount of chocolate could persuade him to share anything else with Remus.

The lady at number five was delighted to tell Remus all sorts of horrible things about the Dursleys, but she had not noticed Harry was missing, nor did she know anything about the strange couple that had visited the Dursleys around the time he vanished. The gentleman at number six did not interfere in other people's affairs, thank you very much, though he had noticed that someone in a very expensive car had paid a couple of visits to the people at number four not long before.

The lady at number three was even more eager to help.

'Oh, Petunia was always complaining about that boy,' she said. 'He was a lot of trouble, you know, and he was just dumped on them after Petunia's brother-in-law got drunk and killed himself and his wife in that horrible car crash.'

Remus was beginning to hate the Dursleys with a passion. He forced himself to remain calm. 'Do you happen to know anything about some dinner guests the Dursleys had over a couple of weeks ago? I believe they were driving a very nice car.'

'Oh, _them_,' Number Three said importantly. 'Petunia was going on about them for weeks. He was some very important executive. I think it had something to do with getting a contract for Vernon's firm. Anyway, when the night rolled around, I had to have a little peek, of course.'

'Naturally,' Remus said with a small smile.

'They drove up in a car that must have cost more than I paid for this whole blooming house,' Number Three continued. 'It was an older couple, very well preserved though. She was wearing jewellery you couldn't imagine. And her mink!' She paused. 'Funny thing was, they didn't stay long. I went to get my Bill—he loves fancy cars, he does—but by the time I dragged him away from the telly the car was gone.'

'Do you happen to remember the name of the couple, by any chance?'

'You're right I do,' Number Three replied. 'Petunia was going on about it for weeks, wasn't she? Now let's see. I don't think she ever said their Christian names, but the surname...Brown, I think...Brown...or Green, maybe. Or Grey.'

'Thank you for your time,' Remus said politely, and left. He had reached the end of the garden when Number Three came out and called after him to stop.

'Black!' she said triumphantly. 'That was their name. Mr and Mrs Black, it was.'

Remus's blood ran cold.

* * *

A week before Christmas, three owls arrived at Windermere Court for 'Mstr Aries Black,' 'Mstr A. S. Black,' and 'Mstr Aries Sirius Black, Future Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient, etc..' They carried three letters on fine parchment that had been addressed in three different, but all very elegant hands. Harry nervously opened the first envelope and read the letter aloud.

_Dear Aries_, it began.

_I was as delighted to learn of your existence as I was saddened to learn of the tragic passing of your mother, my beautiful daughter Regina. I should be very pleased if you would join me for Christmas at Malfoy Manor. This year, I shall be hosting the entire Malfoy and Black families, so you will have the opportunity to meet the rest of your relatives. As your grandfather and closest living relative who is at liberty to provide for you, I wish to discuss certain aspects of your upbringing and guardianship._

_If they must come, my sister and her husband are invited as well._

_With much tender affection, I remain_

_Your loving Grandfather,_

_Abraxas Malfoy_

Aunt Clytemnestra became very excited and wanted Harry to write back at once, but Uncle Marius insisted that Harry open the remaining letters first. The second letter read as follows:

_Dear Aries,_

_It was with profound pleasure that I learnt from my sister Cassiopeia about you, though I am very sorry to hear of your poor mother's death. I am sure that it is difficult for you, being taken from your mother at such a young age and forced to live with Squib relatives, who, though I am certain they are doing their absolute best to provide for you, cannot possibly afford you the proper wizarding upbringing to which I have no doubt you have been accustomed. Therefore, your great-grandmother Irma and I have decided to move back to England, where we will take up our abode in your grandmother's old house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place in London. You will come live with us, and we shall give you every attention, as befits a young wizard of your station._

_This Christmas, the entire family will be gathering at Malfoy Manor, and I sincerely hope you will be able to join us. Please inform my brother and his wife they are to come as well. On Boxing Day, I intend to give you a tour of your new home._

_Your great-grandmother sends her fondest regards._

_Affectionately yours,_

_P. C. Black_

The last letter was written in a very ornamental hand, and Harry needed occasional help from Uncle Marius to decipher it. It also bore a heavy wax seal, imprinted with a family crest.

_To Mstr Aries Sirius Black, eldest son of Mr Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient, etc., salutations and greetings!_

_As Head of the Noble and Most Ancient, etc., it is both my very great privilege and sacred responsibility to welcome you into our venerable and illustrious family, and also to express my sincere condolences at the tragic passing of your dear mother, Mrs Sirius Orion Black. It is at such difficult times especially that we recall the importance of family, and of maintaining a connexion with our past._

_As your great-grandfather and the Head of our family, I feel that it is very important for me to see that you are properly cared for, all the more so since I know that one day you will assume the heavy burden that I have borne for over three decades: Headship of our Noble and Most Ancient House. It is for this reason that I have decided that you are to come live with me and my wife at our home in southern France. I understand that you resided with your late mother in France, so this familiar setting should no doubt prove most comfortable for you._

_I intend to spend Christmas at Malfoy Manor along with the remainder of our family, though I do so only out of a desire to see you, my distinguished offspring. I therefore adjure you to come to Malfoy Manor this Christmas, so that I am not forced to make such an arduous journey for naught._

_Cordially yours,_

_Arcturus Sirius Black, Order of Merlin, First Class_

_Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

_PS – The Squibs may come too._

Harry reacted to the letters with distress. 'I don't want to go live in any of those places,' he said to Uncle Marius, trying hard to hold back his tears. 'I want to stay here with you and Aunt Clytemnestra, and the portraits.'

Uncle Marius smiled and patted the boy on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, my boy,' he reassured Harry. 'The first rule of living in the Black family is to master the family politics. Arcturus and Pollux hate each other; they'll each do anything to get you on their side and keep you out of the other's hands.'

'As for Abraxas,' Aunt Clytemnestra explained, 'he has his own agenda. You may not be in line to inherit his family wealth, but he would certainly like for you to think of yourself as a Malfoy rather than a Black.'

Uncle Marius chuckled. 'If we play this right, we can play them off one another, you won't have to leave here at all, and you'll suddenly find yourself with all sorts of family members who will be constantly showering you with affection.'

Harry thought that sounded complicated, but he trusted Uncle Marius, and obediently sat down to write replies to his three forebears. His aunt and uncle and all the portraits joined in helping Harry to compose his reply. Eventually they settled on having him express gratitude for his relatives' kindness, as well as great eagerness to meet them all at Christmas. Uncle Marius made him copy each letter out three times before finally giving his approval to the penmanship, then finally tied the letters to the legs of the owls and sent them back to their owners.


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 5

When he got home, Remus took out a quill and began to compose a letter to Dumbledore. The Headmaster would undoubtedly want to know what Remus had learnt on Privet Drive. After a couple of lines, however, Remus stopped and put down the quill. The Dursley boy had claimed that Harry had gone with his captors willingly, and Dumbledore had indicated the same. The one thing that had been abundantly clear from Remus's interviews was that the Muggles had been awful to the boy. Perhaps it was better for Harry wherever he was...

Remus shook his head. Be that as it may, he could not stop looking until he knew for sure that Harry was safe. As for the identity of the kidnappers, it was true that Remus had strongly negative associations with that particular surname, but Blacks weren't that uncommon. It didn't have to be one of Sirius's unsavoury relations; it could have been someone else, even a Muggle. Not many pureblooded wizards drove cars, after all. There was the fact of the modified memories to consider, but perhaps the Muggles had been working with a wizard? Remus groaned in frustration. He couldn't be sure of anything at the moment, except that Harry Potter was missing and that he loathed Harry Potter's Muggle relatives.

Relatives.

Suddenly something clicked in Remus's mind. Dumbledore had thought that Remus might have kidnapped Harry out of a desire to help him, because Remus had been James's friend. Who else might be willing to do the same thing? James's relatives, of course.

There were no other Potters around that Remus knew of, but James's mum's maiden name had been Dorea Black. She hadn't been close to all of her relatives, as Remus recalled from a few rants he had overheard at James's place, but she had a couple of siblings to whom she was close. When James and Lily got married Sirius had made some comment about how there were more Blacks at James's wedding that there would be at his.

Remus jumped up from the sofa and retrieved his box of Potter photographs from their place on the highest shelf in the storeroom. He brought them back to living room, blew the dust off the cover and opened the box. Just seeing the happy faces smiling up at him brought tears to his eyes. He took out James and Lily's wedding album and started flipping through it, grumbling at the insolence of Sirius Black, who shamelessly jumped right into the middle of the action in photograph after photograph.

In one photograph stood James, waving, standing alongside a very dignified older gentleman with closely cropped black hair, greying at the temples. The older man slightly resembled Sirius, which caught Remus's attention. He resembled James's mother even more strongly. Remus flipped through a few more, stopping when he saw one with James and Sirius both standing with their arms around the same man. A few photographs later Remus found one with the man and his wife, a very imposing lady who was indeed wearing some rather impressive jewels. They stood alongside a car, and Remus thought it looked expensive enough, though admittedly he knew very little about such things.

Remus stared at the photographs for over an hour. It felt as though the answers were hovering at the fringes of his mind, just beyond his grasp. He went through the facts again and again. The kidnappers had blended in very well in the Muggle world, which one wouldn't expect of a wizard from an old pureblood family. They drove a car, which was also rare, though not unheard of.

Remus looked back at the photographs and noticed one that seemed particularly strange. James and Sirius were in the middle of a hex war, and the distinguished gentleman had unfortunately found himself caught between them. That, in itself, was nothing unusual for James and Sirius. But something about the man's reaction seemed off. He was shifting back and forth, trying to dodge out of the way, and shielding his face with his arms.

'Why didn't he draw his wand?' Remus wondered aloud. Drawing one's wand was the automatic response of a wizard to almost any situation. Why hadn't the gentleman taken any steps to defend himself?

Remus thought long and hard about the wizard's curious behaviour, but couldn't make any sense of it. The answer finally came to him just before he drifted off to sleep that night. Remus kicked himself for not remembering it sooner. The man wasn't a wizard at all. James's uncle was a Squib.

* * *

In the days leading up to Christmas, Harry drilled from dawn to dusk, going over all the etiquette and genealogy he had learnt, as well as practicing his French intensively in case he was called upon to give a demonstration. Other lessons were suspended, as was playtime, and the portraits all joined Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra in helping Harry to prepare.

The day before Christmas Eve, Uncle Marius sat with Harry in the parlour, going over the names of the family members he would encounter the next day. Uncle Marius held up a photograph showing a very grave wizard and a plump, smiling witch.

'Who is this?' he asked.

'My great-grandfather, Arcturus Sirius Black, Order of Merlin, First Class, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,' Harry recited dully for the fortieth time. 'He has been living in France for twenty-three years, ever since he left England in a huff after his candidate to become Minister for Magic was passed over. He opposed the Dark Lord because he believed that any pureblood wizard who was worth his salt would take pride in his family name and not conceal it with a silly pseudonym. He suspected He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named of illegitimacy.'

'Correct,' Uncle Marius said proudly.

'Uncle Marius, what's illegitimacy?' Harry asked.

'It's when your parents aren't married,' Uncle Marius explained, turning a bit red.

'Oh. The witch is my great-grandmother, Melania Macmillan Black,' Harry continued. 'She's the sanest person in the family. She'll be wanting me to go to France so she can feed me lots of rich baked goods and keep me away from Aunt Cassiopeia.'

Uncle Marius nodded and held up another photo, which displayed an old wizard with a maniacal gleam in his eye standing as far apart as he could manage from a squint-eyed witch.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'That's my other great-grandfather, Pollux Cygnus Black. He was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot for six months before Dumbledore took over, and refuses to allow anyone to forget it. He moved to Transylvania ten years ago in order to take advantage of their lack of pesky restrictions on Muggle hunting. He was a big supporter of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and was too disillusioned after his defeat to back He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The witch is my great-grandmother, Irma Crabbe Black. She and Pollux try to talk to each other as little as possible.'

Uncle Marius flipped to the next photograph.

'My father's great-aunt, Cassiopeia Virgo Black. She's on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, never married. She's very skilled at the Dark Arts.'

'And who is this?' his uncle asked, holding up a photograph of a stern-looking wizard with blond hair.

'My mother's father, Abraxas Hippocrates Malfoy. Major financial backer of the Dark Lord, never openly supported him. He'll want to keep me away from Arcturus, and to make sure I receive a healthy grounding in the Dark Arts, in order to counterbalance the puritanical nonsense I'll be getting at Hogwarts.' He paused. 'What's puritanical, again?'

'Excessively concerned with doing the right thing,' Uncle Marius explained.

'But shouldn't you always try to do the right thing?' Harry asked.

Uncle Marius smiled. 'You know that and I know that. But Abraxas feels there are some more important things, such as acquiring power and wealth.'

'But what's the point of having all that power and gold unless it's to use it to help you do the right thing?'

'Precisely, Aries.' His uncle chuckled and held up the last photograph, showing four people with blond hair.

'That's my Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa. He was a Death Eater, but got out of Azkaban by claiming to have been under the Imperius Curse. Aunt Narcissa is very active in charitable work. She sits on the board of St Mungo's and chairs the Christmas Robes Drive for Needy Witches and Wizards every year. The boy is their son, my cousin Draco. The older witch is Aunt Narcissa's mother, Druella Rosier Black. She's a widow and lives at Malfoy Manor with her daughter. She was accused of playing a part in a recent famine that struck the Home Counties, but nothing was ever proved.'

'In other words, Harry,' James's portrait observed, 'they're all nutters. There's a reason Sirius ran away from home at sixteen.'

Harry nodded. 'I'm beginning to see that. And it's Aries, Uncle James.'

'You don't have to worry about figuring out how to please them, though,' James went on, ignoring him. 'They're a nasty bunch. If it looks like you're slipping, just be evil. They'll fawn all over you. OW!' At that point, Lily had just swatted the back of James's head.

'Great advice you're giving him,' Lily scolded. '"Just be evil." Some role model you are.'

'Actually, Lily,' Regina said, chiming in. 'As much as I hate to admit it, your husband is right.'

James grinned. 'I knew you'd see the light eventually.'

Regina rolled her eyes. 'Even a broken clock is right twice a day. In any event, everyone will be looking to see how Aries lives up to their expectations. If he can satisfy them that he's on the right track, they'll give him anything he wants.'

Lily groaned. 'In other words, we're teaching Aries how to acquire minions and manipulate people.'

Uncle Marius smiled mischievously. 'Precisely.'

Lily turned to Harry sadly, her eyes pleading. 'Fine. Just promise me you'll remember that this is all just acting. Don't _actually_ become evil.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I won't, Aunt Lily.'

* * *

The next morning Harry dressed in his best robes and accompanied his aunt and uncle through the fireplace to Malfoy Manor. Abraxas, Druella, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco were waiting to greet them.

'Welcome to Malfoy Manor, my boy,' Abraxas said jovially. 'Happy Christmas.' Harry clicked his heels together and made a short bow.

'Happy Christmas, Grandfather,' he said. 'It is an honour finally to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to spend Christmas here in your beautiful home.'

Harry greeted Druella in much the same way, but also kissed her hand and claimied to have initially mistaken her for Narcissa's sister, rather than her mother. Druella cracked a half-smile in response. Uncle Lucius was standoffish, only nodding briefly to acknowledge Harry's greeting, whilst Aunt Narcissa was gracious enough, but kept giving Harry suspicious looks. Finally Abraxas introduced Draco.

'This, Aries, is your cousin,' he said to Harry. 'I know Draco has been looking forward very much to having a friend his own age to play with.'

The cold glare Draco gave Harry made him suspect that the other boy was not quite so eager as his grandfather believed. Abraxas, however, did not appear to notice anything amiss, and promptly packed both boys off to the playroom. Harry left his aunt and uncle reluctantly. He had not failed to notice that no one had spoken any words of greeting to them.

Draco took Harry up a flight of stairs to his playroom, a large room with windows overlooking the beautiful grounds and shelves lined with all manner of toys. Once they were inside, Draco shut the door.

'This is _my_ playroom,' he announced in no uncertain terms. 'And these are _my _toys. This is _my _house, and those were _my _mother and father.' He sniffed. 'I do not intend to share them.'

Harry was confused for a moment, then he understood. James, having also been a spoilt only child, had warned him of this possibility. Draco was scared that Harry was moving into his territory. Harry thought it best to clear that up right away. He stood up very straight.

'Well, _my_ playroom is bigger,' he retorted. 'It overlooks _my _garden at _my _house where I fly every day on _my _broomstick. I have lots of _my own_ toys, and if there's anything else I want _my _uncle will buy it for me.'

'The Squib?' Draco scoffed.

Harry glared at his cousin. 'They're _my _Squibs, and I do not intend to share them, either.'

Draco stifled a small chuckle. 'Well, so long as we're clear on that, then.'

'Right,' Harry said, tongue firmly in cheek. 'I won't steal your parents if you promise not to steal my Squibs.'

Draco couldn't hold it in any longer. He laughed aloud and offered Harry his hand. Harry shook it and grinned.

'I'm glad that's settled,' Draco said brightly. 'Do you want to see my train?'

* * *

Shortly before dinnertime, Pollux, Irma and Cassiopeia arrived through the Floo, followed presently by Arcturus and Melania. They all fawned over Harry to various degrees, but Arcturus and Pollux were by far the worst. They hovered over him like vultures over carrion.

'What a handsome young lad,' Arcturus said, tousling Harry's hair. 'He reminds me very strongly of Orion at this age.' He gave Harry a fond look. 'Orion was your grandfather, and as fine a wizard as any. If you take after him, you'll do well.'

Pollux crouched down next to the boy and grabbed him by the shoulders. 'You know, my boy, you don't look like the sort to waste all day sipping tea in the library.' He smiled hungrily. 'I can see the fire in your eyes. You've inherited your grandmother's spiritedness.' He chuckled in admiration. 'Walburga was a fine witch. It' s only natural you'd take after her. Your father's the same way.'

Arcturus murmured darkly about excess of spirit leading one straight to Azkaban. Abraxas shoved his way into the conversation.

'I have to say, I think Aries takes after Regina more than anyone else,' he said loudly to no one in particular. 'And how could it be otherwise, when he spent the first six years of his life with her?'

Harry caught Draco's eye through the midst of the swarming relatives. His cousin was scowling at him resentfully. Harry made a face and shrugged apologetically. Draco smirked back, relaxing just a bit.

'Come over here with me, Aries,' Arcturus commanded, pulling his great-grandson away from the others. 'You're looking a bit pale. All these people must be overwhelming you. It's a sign of good breeding not to be able to abide the masses.'

He led Harry into the parlour, Pollux and Abraxas following close behind.

Melania watched the unfolding madness with a sigh.

'I do hope they don't tear the boy to pieces,' she observed to Irma.

Irma nodded. 'I wonder who will come out on top.'

'That should be obvious, Irma.' Cassiopeia smiled wickedly over Melania's shoulder. 'Whoever's the most ruthless.'

* * *

That evening Marius and Clytemnestra lay awake in bed long after everyone else had gone to sleep.

'Things seem to be going as well as could be expected,' Marius said cheerfully. 'Aries has them eating out of his hand.'

Clytemnestra sniffed. 'I wish someone would actually speak to us occasionally. I haven't had more than two words from Abraxas since we arrived.'

Marius shrugged. 'Considering that until recently he pretended you didn't exist, I should think this was a major improvement.'

'I know,' Clytemnestra said in a small voice. 'It's only that I've dreamt for years of my homecoming to Malfoy Manor, and I'd rather hoped things would be different.'

Marius placed his hand gently over his wife. 'Give them time, my dear. Perhaps, eventually...'

'There is no time, Marius,' she snapped. 'We're not young anymore, and even now, the only reason they tolerate our presence is because of Aries. The moment one of those three manages to take the boy under his wing, you know we'll be out in the cold.'

Marius smiled. 'As for that, my dear, I don't think you need to worry. Everything is going just as I planned. I intend to present my compromise tomorrow after dinner.'

His wife frowned. 'Don't you think Aries needs someone stronger than us to watch out for his interests?' She paused. 'James is so adamant that Sirius is innocent, do you think perhaps we could get him out of prison, somehow?'

'How exactly would you do that?' Marius snorted. 'We have no evidence, and right now the only people who believe in Sirius's innocence and care enough to do anything about it are a portrait of his dead best friend, a couple of Squibs and the boy who's posing as his son.'

Clytemnestra winced. 'I suppose I see your point.'

'Aries actually asked whether perhaps one of his influential grandfathers might be able to do something,' Marius said with a smile. 'He doesn't like the idea that someone is languishing in Azkaban unjustly.' He sighed and shook his head. 'But we don't even know for sure that Sirius is innocent, and I would rather keep ourselves as far away from any sort of investigation as possible. You know very well what might happen if anyone discovers who Aries is.'

'We go to Azkaban,' his wife whispered.

Marius nodded grimly. 'And Aries goes back to that awful cupboard.'


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 6

Harry woke up on Christmas morning to the unpleasant sensation of Draco dumping a goblet of cold water on his head. He sat up straight in his bed and sputtered. Draco was laughing uproariously.

'What was that for?' Harry demanded.

'It's Christmas Day,' Draco replied eagerly, all but jumping up and down in place. 'The presents are downstairs, and Grandfather says we can't start opening them until you come down.'

Harry blinked. 'Everyone else is up?' He looked at the clock over his mantel. 'It's five in the morning.'

Draco smirked. 'I have my ways.'

'I hope you didn't go pouring water on my great-grandfathers' heads,' Harry muttered, crawling out of bed.

'Don't be stupid,' Draco retorted. 'I just ordered the house elf to make loud noises outside all their bedrooms.'

Harry frowned at his cousin. 'That's not very fair. You'll only get the elf in trouble.'

Draco shrugged. 'It's just an elf. Anyway, Grandfather won't get anyone in trouble on Christmas Day. Father says he's...incidental that way.'

Harry chuckled. 'I think you mean sentimental.' He was very proud of himself, having just learnt that word a week before. Harry liked learning new words.

'That's what I said,' Draco said, and tugged Harry's arm impatiently. 'Come on.'

Harry yanked his arm back. 'Not until I dry my face. I'm not going downstairs dripping like a wet dog.'

'DOBBY!' Draco yelled. The house elf appeared and bowed low. 'Bring Master Aries a towel,' he commanded. The elf vanished and returned a moment later with a freshly ironed hand towel. Harry took it.

'Thank you,' he said. The elf's eyes went wide, but he said nothing as he bowed. Harry dried his face thoroughly and handed the towel back to the elf. 'Happy Christmas, Dobby.'

Dobby looked as though he were about to be hit by a train. 'Happy Christmas, Master Aries,' he stammered. 'Dobby is delighted to serve such a noble and gracious young wizard.' He disappeared with a pop.

Now that Harry was dry, he had no more reason to hold Draco back, and he allowed his cousin to lead him by the arm through the winding corridors of the massive old house. Harry couldn't help but be amused at Draco's excitement. Christmas was fun and all, but Harry had never got much, just a few broken toys of Dudley's. He anticipated getting better presents this year, of course, but didn't quite see the point of dragging everyone out of bed before the sun was up.

Then he walked into the parlour. He gaped in awe at the sight that awaited him. An enormous tree reached from floor to ceiling, adorned with real fairies and dozens of magical decorations, all moving and chirping and emitting multi-coloured lights. The adults sat in a semi-circle around the room, each with a pile of presents resting beside them. Harry thought the piles were quite generous, but they paled in comparison with the two mountains of presents waiting in front of the tree for him and Draco.

Abraxas chuckled. 'Happy Christmas, boys.'

'Happy Christmas, Grandfather,' Harry and Draco said in unison, and then grinned at each other before diving in.

All the presents were very expensive, and there were loads of them. Arcturus and Melania had given Harry an antique wizarding chess set – 'It belonged to my grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black,' Arcturus said – a set of new dress robes and a box of Melania's homemade fudge, which was easily the most delicious thing Harry had ever tasted. Pollux and Irma had given him a number of antique magical toys of a sort that were no longer produced. There was a set of toy armour that made one mostly invisible, along with a toy sword that could inflict no injuries, but created true-to-life illusions for up to an hour, and a teddy bear that sang lullabies, played games and bandaged scraped knees, alongside many other toys. Cassiopeia gave Harry a collection of magical children's books with moving pictures and realistic sound effects. Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra gave Harry a train set that moved on its own and emitted puffs of coloured smoke. Druella, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco gave Harry a hamper of sweets of every sort imaginable. The presents brought tears to Harry's eyes. He stood up and went to each relative, thanking them profusely for their gifts. Pollux ruffled his hair affectionately. Arcturus patted his shoulder roughly. Irma and Melania each gave him a kiss.

It was only when he stopped in front of Abraxas that Harry realised he had not received a gift from his grandfather. He didn't miss a beat.

'Thank you, sir, for inviting me to spend Christmas in your house,' he said sincerely.

Abraxas roared with laughter. 'You're welcome, my boy, but I haven't given you and Draco my presents yet.'

When Draco heard that, he jumped up and stood next to Harry. Abraxas raised his wand and Summoned two long boxes, which flew through the open doors of the parlour into the boys' hands. Harry and Draco ripped the paper of the boxes eagerly and gasped in unison.

'Broomsticks!' the boys both exclaimed.

'Comet Two Sixties,' Abraxas said with a smug grin. 'They have training charms on them to keep you from falling off or losing control, but you'll have good speed and a full range of motion.' He paused. 'After breakfast, we can go out into the garden and I'll show you how to fly them. Then perhaps Lucius and I can get our brooms and we'll have a game of two-on-two Quidditch.'

Lucius grumbled a bit in protest, but shut up when his father gave him a withering glare. Harry and Draco, however, could hardly wait. They practically inhaled their bacon and eggs, and then ran back to their rooms to put on their heavy winter cloaks. They came back down and waited by the door as Abraxas and Lucius fetched their brooms.

Harry had enjoyed flying on his toy broomstick before now, but the real thing was incomparable, and Harry took to it like a fish to water. Within minutes of first straddling his new broomstick Harry was swooping through the air, all worries forgotten as he whooped in delight. Draco had a bit of difficulty at first, but Abraxas was a surprisingly patient instructor, and after half-an-hour he thought they were ready for a simple game of Quidditch. Abraxas and Harry teamed up against Lucius and Draco and played with only the Quaffle, all players doubling as Chaser and Keeper, with the first team to reach a hundred points winning.

Abraxas was a stunning player, and Harry, it turned out, was not so bad himself. They devastated Lucius and Draco in the first game, before switching sides. The second game was adults versus children, and the adults won, though Harry and Draco held their own. Harry wouldn't have minded a third game, but Draco was sore from having lost twice, Lucius hadn't wanted to play in the first place, and Abraxas was starting to feel his age. They headed back inside in good spirits. Lucius even tousled Harry's and Draco's hair as he went upstairs to dress for dinner.

'Grandfather was Slytherin Quidditch Captain at Hogwarts for five years,' Draco explained as the two boys went to their rooms. 'He could have played for England if he wanted, but that was beneath him, of course.'

Harry went to his room and changed into the brand-new dress robes he had received from Arcturus and Melania that morning. They were a light-blue colour that matched his new eyes. Harry still couldn't get used to looking in the mirror and seeing someone else's eyes staring back, though he enjoyed not having to mess about with glasses.

There was a knock on his door.

'Come in,' Harry said. It was Uncle Marius.

'How are you holding up, Aries?' he asked.

'All right,' Harry said. 'Yesterday was a bit mad, but today's been fun.' He grinned. 'The broomstick is brilliant.'

Uncle Marius smiled. 'James will be excited to see it. You'll have to tell him how well you flew. He'll be quite proud.'

Harry's expression turned serious. 'Will I be able to go home?'

His uncle hesitated. 'I think we've a good chance of working it out,' he said. 'Abraxas may have won a battle this morning with his Christmas gift to you, but he's managed to bring Pollux and Arcturus together, which, to my knowledge, no one else has ever done before. I think they've agreed to do whatever's necessary to make sure you grow up in a Black home. Abraxas won't see what hit him.'

'We have a Black home,' Harry pointed out.

'Exactly.' Uncle Marius chuckled. 'That's why I said we have a good chance of succeeding. You're doing a fine job, Aries. Keep it up, and we can go home tomorrow.'

* * *

Harry had grown accustomed to good cooking since he left the Dursleys, but Christmas dinner at Malfoy Manor outshone anything he had ever imagined. A hundred different dishes covered the table: goose and pheasant, lamb and suckling pig, simple boiled potatoes and elegant soufflés, vegetables prepared in a dozen different mouth-watering ways. Harry couldn't pick favourites out of all the splendid dishes, so he piled his plate high with a bit of everything.

All through dinner the adults bickered with each other over everything from politics to the best recipe for Christmas pudding, their voices growing louder and their arguments more vehement as the fine wine flowed. One particularly nasty spat erupted just before dessert.

'I was stunned, simply stunned the other night at the Ministry ball,' Druella drawled. 'Hortensia Selwyn was wearing robes that were really the most horrid shade of purple—and with a green hat, too! She's so plump, she was strutting about the ball looking for all the world like an overgrown aubergine.'

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow. 'I was at the ball myself, dear, and I didn't see anything wrong with Hortensia's taste.' She raised her goblet to her lips and sipped. 'After all, she wasn't the one wearing a fuchsia gown.'

Druella narrowed her eyes. 'It was a delicate shade of rose, Cassiopeia, as you well know.'

Cassipeia smirked. 'If that was a delicate shade, I should shudder to imagine what an intense shade might look like. You stood out more that that Umbridge woman.'

Druella drew her wand and shot a Stinging Hex at Cassiopeia, which the latter witch easily deflected. Cassiopeia cackled and twirled her own wand.

_'Serpensortia!_' she intoned, and a vicious-looking cobra flew out the end of her wand and landed on the table directly in front of Druella, who panicked. She jumped back from the table, knocking over her chair. The snake ignored her and turned towards Draco, who was sitting right next to his grandmother.

Harry was sitting across from Draco, and saw the look of terror that appeared on his cousin's face. The cobra raised its head and spread its hood. Without hesitation, Harry grabbed the snake by the tail and yanked it away from Draco. It began to hiss angrily and turned to strike Harry.

'Foolish boy,' it hissed. 'Now you will die instead of the other.'

For some odd reason, it did not immediately surprise Harry that he was able to understand the snake. Perhaps it had something to do with the sheer number of amazing things that had happened in his life over the previous few weeks. In any event, Harry did not stop to wonder, but reacted immediately.

'Leave me alone,' he hissed back.

The snake froze and stared at Harry warily. 'You speak the noble language of the serpents,' he observed.

Harry shrugged, realising for the first time the strange ability he had discovered. 'I suppose so.'

The snake inclined its head. 'Forgive me, my lord, for preparing to strike you. I did not know who you were.'

'Fine, but promise not to attack anyone else.'

'My lord is merciful,' the cobra replied. 'I shall obey your commands with gratitude.'

Harry let go of the snake's tail, and the cobra slithered over to his elbow and curled up.

'I am hungry, my lord,' it said. 'I should be honoured if you would be so kind as to provide me with nourishment.'

Harry took a juicy slice of turkey, set it on his bread plate, and placed it on the floor beside his chair.

'Thank you, my lord,' the snake said, and then slithered down the table leg to the floor, where it eagerly commenced devouring the turkey. Harry smiled at the snake despite himself, and then looked back up at the table. Everyone was staring at him, speechless.

'Did I do something wrong?' he asked nervously.

Pollux laughed in glee and wiped a tear from his eye. 'Wrong? You're a _Parselmouth_, Aries. Nothing could make me more delighted.'

Arcturus sniffed. 'I'm hardly surprised,' he said smugly, though his broad, almost child-like grin made Harry rather doubt his truthfulness. 'You do spring from two pureblood lines more exalted than any in Britain.'

'That was wicked, Aries!' Draco exclaimed. 'It was just like in the stories, like Slytherin himself, or...' He trailed off.

'The Dark Lord,' Lucius finished, an impenetrable expression on his face.

Abraxas chuckled. 'Indeed, indeed. How long have you known that you spoke Parseltongue, my boy?'

'Is Parseltongue snake language?' Harry asked. His grandfather nodded. 'I only just found out, sir.'

Cassiopeia was incredulous. 'Just now, when you were talking to the snake? Why did you grab its tail then, if you didn't know you could control it?'

Harry shrugged. 'It was going to attack Draco.'

Narcissa gave him a small smile. 'That was very brave, Aries.'

'Ordinarily I would say foolhardy,' Abraxas observed, 'but I suppose you know what you're up to around snakes far better than I.' He sat back in his chair. 'Great Merlin, a Parselmouth in the family.' He laughed aloud. 'What a Christmas present! I say we celebrate.' He called out to the house elf. 'Dobby, bring in the dessert.'

* * *

Late that night, Arcturus, Pollux and Abraxas sat up in Abraxas's study, smoking their pipes and nursing glasses of firewhisky.

'I think Aries should come stay with me,' Abraxas said. 'We have plenty of room for a young boy to romp about, and it would benefit both him and Draco to grow up together.'

Arcturus chuckled darkly. 'If you think I shall permit the future head of my House to grow up in Malfoy Manor, you are gravely mistaken.'

'Shut up, the both of you,' Pollux snapped. 'This isn't about our petty interests any more. None of us can afford to let the others control the boy, especially not now that we've learnt the truth about his power and heritage.'

Abraxas chuckled. 'A Parselmouth! There's no doubt Aries will grow up to be a very powerful wizard one day.'

'He could well be the next Dark Lord,' Pollux said, his voice trembling from a combination of pride and terror. 'The true Heir of Slytherin.'

'He could call himself the Black Lord,' Arcturus said dreamily. 'For a thousand generations wizards would tremble at the sound of our family name.'

'If you don't intend him to grow up with any one of us, what do you suggest, Pollux?' Abraxas asked, and took a long draw on his pipe.

'A compromise, of course,' Pollux said. 'The boy will continue to live with the Squibs. He's used to them, and that way he is equally bound to both our families. Cassie will go live with them. She can begin to tutor the boy.'

'I want Draco to join Aries for these tutoring sessions,' Abraxas insisted.

'Fair enough,' Pollux conceded. 'Irma and I shall go ahead with our plans to move into number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and the boys can spend plenty of time there, as well as here at Malfoy Manor.'

'Aries must spend summers with me and Melania in France,' Arcturus added.

'That's fine,' Abraxas said. 'We might even send Draco along for part of the summer. France will do the boys some good.'

'It's settled, then.' Pollux said, and the others both nodded. Abraxas filled up their glasses with a flick of his wand and the three wizards joined in a toast.

'To Aries Sirius Black, the true Heir of Slytherin.'


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 7

After breakfast on Boxing Day, Pollux took Harry and Draco to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, leaving Abraxas and Arcturus to discuss their plans with the Squibs. They emerged from the grate to find a dusty old townhouse, similar in many respects to the one on Windermere Court, but far dirtier, and with somewhat of a darker feel to it. Malfoy Manor had its fair share of Dark objects on display – skulls, shrunken heads, phials of blood and so on – but this house seemed to revel in its Dark heritage. The staircase was lined with the heads of dead house elves and a troll leg had been turned into an umbrella stand near the door. The portraits looked at Harry and Draco suspiciously, and many of them wore sinister expressions. The cobwebs and thick layer of dust only served to enhance the house's spookiness.

Draco nudged Harry nervously. 'Do you think it's haunted?' he whispered.

Harry shrugged. 'Even if it is, we've got Great-Granddad with us.'

Meanwhile Pollux was scowling in utter disgust.

'What has that blasted elf been up to since Walburga died?' he murmured angrily. 'KREACHER!'

The house elf appeared instantly, and bowed low when he saw Pollux, his eyes wide.

'Master Pollux has come to visit Mistress's house,' he croaked. 'Kreacher is honoured to serve his Master.'

'Kreacher, Mistress Irma and I are moving here after the New Year,' Pollux said sternly. 'We had hoped to find the house fit to live in. How could you disgrace your Mistress in this way? What would she have said to find her home in such a state?'

Kreacher grabbed a poker and started hitting himself vigorously, but Pollux stopped him.

'You'll have plenty of time to punish yourself once the house is clean,' he said sharply. 'I want this place immaculate by the New Year. Every surface should shine.'

Kreacher bowed. 'Kreacher will do as Master has ordered. Kreacher lives to serve the House of Black.'

Pollux pulled Harry and Draco over. 'Kreacher, these are my great-grandsons: Aries Black and Draco Malfoy. They will be coming to visit often, and I expect you to obey them fully. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Master,' Kreacher murmured.

'Aries is Master Sirius's son,' Pollux went on. 'He will be your Master after I am gone, and I expect you to show him full respect and obedience.'

Kreacher's eyes narrowed. 'Master Sirius was an ungrateful blood traitor who ran away from home and broke his mother's heart. Mistress swore he was no son of hers.'

Pollux looked horrified and, without thinking, placed his hands over Harry's ears, which was completely ineffective, since Harry could hear everything anyway, even if it was a bit muffled.

'I forbid you ever again to speak ill of Master Sirius, or to repeat anything bad that anyone else has said,' the old wizard said imperiously. 'From now on I command you to think, feel and act as though you had a deep and profound love for Master Sirius, and to regard him as a great, kind and beneficent master. Now get to your work.'

Harry thought for a moment that Kreacher looked very unhappy, but the elf only bowed deeply.

'Of course, Master,' Kreacher said, and disappeared.

Pollux turned to his great-grandsons. 'Wait for me in the parlour,' he said. 'I need to have a word with Aries' grandmother's portrait.'

Harry and Draco went back into the parlour, but did not sit down, neither one fancying the idea of wallowing in the dust. They wandered around a bit, looking at the various objects on display. Draco stopped in front of a large tapestry that spread across an entire wall.

'Look over here, Aries,' he exclaimed. 'It's the Black family tree.'

Harry wandered over slowly to see what had his cousin so excited, and he had to admit that the tapestry was fascinating, showing every member of the Black family for centuries.

'There's Mum,' Draco said, pointing to one of the names. 'And there I am.'

'There's Great-Granddad, and Aunt Cassiopeia,' Harry pointed out. His heart leapt when he saw Dorea Black married to Charlus Potter, with one son, James Potter, but of course, he said nothing. It wouldn't do to raise suspicions, even with Draco. 'Uncle Marius isn't on here.'

'Oh? Let me see.' Draco looked over where Harry was pointing. 'There's a funny black mark right there. Maybe that's where he ought to be. Do you think the tapestry is damaged?'

'Maybe,' Harry mused. 'There's another black mark like that over here where my dad should be.'

'There's a lot of them on here,' Draco said. 'See? Here's another one right by my mum.'

'Found something interesting, boys?' Pollux asked, walking back into the room.

'We found the Black family tree,' Draco said. 'But it's damaged.'

'Really?' Pollux came over to inspect it. 'I wonder how that happened.' He scanned over the tapestry. 'I don't see any damage.'

'Right here, Great-Granddad,' Harry pointed out. 'This funny black mark where my dad should be. And another one over here, where Uncle Marius should be.'

Harry thought Pollux looked a bit pale. The old man laughed weakly.

'Fancy that,' he said, his voice shaking. 'The tapestry does seem to be damaged. Oh, well, it's easy enough to fix.' He raised his wand and muttered a spell. The black marks vanished, being replaced in each case by names.

'My mum has a sister!' Draco exclaimed. Sure enough, the black mark by Narcissa's name had vanished, being replaced by the name Andromeda Black. A double line of gold thread connected her to Ted Tonks. Beneath their two names appeared yet another: Nymphadora Tonks.

'Look, Draco,' Harry said. 'We have another cousin! She's several years older than us.'

Draco frowned. 'How come I never heard about her before?' he asked Pollux.

His great-grandfather hesitated. 'Andromeda doesn't get on with the rest of the family,' he said carefully. 'She went against her parents' wishes and married a Mudblood.'

Draco gasped. 'Why would she ever do something like that?'

'People do many silly things when they're young,' Pollux replied.

'Is that why her name was covered with a black mark?' Harry asked quietly. 'It was damaged on purpose, wasn't it.' Pollux's wince was all the confirmation Harry needed. 'I suppose Dad's name was missing because he ran away from home, and Uncle Marius was missing because he's a Squib.'

'It's just a silly old tapestry,' Pollux said hastily. 'It doesn't mean anything.'

'So can Aries and I meet our cousin Nymphadora?' Draco asked.

Pollux nearly refused outright, but as he looked down at the two earnest faces of his great-grandsons, he hesitated.

'I'll see what I can do,' he promised. 'Come on, Aries, let's go meet your grandmother.'

Both boys followed Pollux out of the room, none of them noticing the two extra names that had appeared on the tapestry next to Sirius's: Regina Malfoy and Aries Black.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Harry returned to Windermere Court with Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra. He eagerly recounted all the news of the holiday to the portraits, who laughed and gasped in all the right places.

'A Parselmouth?' Lily was stunned. 'Where did that come from?'

James grinned. 'Maybe you're not as Muggleborn as we thought. Maybe you're the Heiress of Slytherin.'

'But I'm not a Parselmouth,' Lily protested.

'Maybe you are, and just never had the opportunity to find out,' Regina observed.

Uncle Marius cleared his throat. Everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to him.

'Whilst all this is most diverting, I am afraid we have some rather pressing matters that demand our attention,' he said. 'Aries, right after you left for Grimmauld Place, Arcturus and Abraxas informed me that they and Pollux have agreed to allow you to remain here with us.'

'That's great!' Harry exclaimed, and James cheered.

'There are, however, a few conditions,' Marius said. 'You will live here Monday through Friday. You will spend Saturdays at Grimmauld Place and Sundays at Malfoy Manor. Over the summer, you will go to visit Arcturus and Melania in France.'

'That doesn't sound so bad,' Harry said.

'There's more,' Aunt Clytemnestra said. 'Cassiopeia will be coming to live with us.'

Harry's jaw fell open. 'Cassiopeia? Why?'

'She'll be tutoring you,' Uncle Marius explained. 'Draco will be coming over for lessons as well.'

Harry wasn't sure what to think of that. Cassiopeia had been perfectly nice to him, after all, but he had seen her be utterly nasty to other people. He didn't think he would much enjoy having her living with him. On the other hand, taking lessons with Draco could be a lot of fun.

'We'll have to be very careful,' he said. 'No one can slip up at all.'

'Certainly not,' Uncle Marius agreed. 'It would take only one mistake to destroy all that we have accomplished.'

Harry's face fell. 'I hope she doesn't ruin everything.'

'Cheer up, Aries,' James said with a mischievous grin. 'We can make things very exciting for Aunt Cassie.'

* * *

As things turned out, Cassiopeia was not nearly as awful as Harry had feared. She continued to treat Harry well, and managed even to treat Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra somewhat civilly. She spent much of her time alone in her rooms, engrossed in her own studies. As for her lessons, Harry and Draco both found them quite fascinating.

'Most pureblood families nowadays,' she lectured them their first day of tutoring, shortly after the New Year, 'leave intensive instruction in magic until Hogwarts, and so handicap their offspring. They claim that studying too much magic too soon can overwhelm children.' She spat in disgust. 'I do not hold with such new-fangled nonsense. I shall be teaching you the way I was taught as a girl: two years of serious theory followed by two years with practice wands. We shall purchase your real wands a year before you go to Hogwarts, giving you a solid foundation from which to excel.'

'If that's the way they used to do things, why did they change?' Harry asked.

Cassiopeia snarled. 'Dumbledore, that Muggle-loving old fool, persuaded the Wizengamot to pass a number of ridiculous statutes restricting what could be taught to children of various ages.' She sniggered. 'He claims, of course, that it's for their own protection, but everyone knows it's an underhanded attempt to put Mudbloods on the same footing as decent wizards.'

'So what we're doing is illegal?' Draco looked positively thrilled.

'Technically,' Cassiopeia admitted. 'But so is special magic. Laws and regulations are for lesser mortals, not for such as we, the noble descendants of great and powerful wizards. One must learn to manipulate such petty regulations to one's advantage, but one can never allow them to prevent one from doing whatever is necessary to achieve one's ends.'

Cassiopeia instructed them thoroughly in the basics of Astronomy, Herbology and potion-making, as well as the theoretical foundations of Transfiguration and Charms. Fridays were devoted to what she called 'special magic,' in other words, the Dark Arts. Draco and Harry were both quite bright, and made steady progress, much to Cassiopeia's satisfaction.

After lessons Draco often stayed over for much of the afternoon, and the two cousins spent many exhilarating days flying their broomsticks in the garden, playing pranks on the Squibs (who didn't really mind) and Cassiopeia (who minded a great deal) as well as exploring the three large magical homes they had at their disposal. As time passed, Harry grew more and more accustomed to his new life, and the Dursleys slowly became little more than a faintly-remembered nightmare.

* * *

It took Remus several months of digging in the wizarding Hall of Records, but he finally discovered that Marius and Clytemnestra Black, pureblood Squibs, had been appointed as guardians to one Aries Sirius Black, a pureblood, six years old, the only son of Sirius Orion Black and Regina Cassandra Malfoy. Remus shook his head at the obvious deception. He might not have known Sirius as well as he thought he did, but he would certainly have known if his supposed friend had secretly been married. Moreover, Aries' birth date was given as August 1, 1980, only a day after Harry's birthday, and Remus happened to know exactly where Sirius had been that day—with Remus at James and Lily's, setting up Harry's nursery. Remus snorted. Sirius would never have allowed his wife to give birth alone in another country without his being there to help. He had even tried to stay whilst Lily was giving birth, to provide moral support to James, but Lily had lost her temper and ordered him and James both out. Remus jotted down the address on a spare bit of parchment.

The next day Remus placed a few basic appearance charms on himself before paying a visit to number seventeen, Windermere Court. He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. A house elf opened the door and showed him into the parlour, offering him a seat. A few moments later the elf brought him some tea.

'Master Black will be down to see you presently, sir,' she said before leaving the room.

A sudden shriek filled the house. Remus jumped up.

'YOU UNGRATEFUL, MISERABLE BRATS!' a woman's voice roared. 'IF I EVER GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'LL CRUCIATE YOU SCOUNDRELS TO WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIVES!'

Remus was filled with sudden pity for Harry. How could he ever have thought Harry might be better off in such a horrible place? He should have told Dumbledore immediately.

_How poor Harry must be suffering_, he thought guiltily.

Then he heard the giggling in the next room. Drawing on his long-disused Marauding skills, Remus crept over to the door and peeked in. Two sniggering boys stood on either side of the other door, which led into the hallway. Remus was confused. If he had been threatened with torture by a Dark witch, laughter would not have been his first response, yet the boys showed no sign of fright.

'Do you think she's opened the wardrobe yet?' asked the smaller, blond boy, whom Remus did not find familiar.

The other boy checked the clock on the mantelpiece and shook his head. 'Just a minute,' he said.

The taller boy, with his flowing dark locks and dashing features, reminded Remus very strongly of Sirius, and Remus suspected that this might be Harry under some sort of disguise. As he stood there, watching the boys wait, Remus suddenly realised what was going on, and grinned, despite himself. He had walked into the middle of a _prank_.

A sudden explosion rocked the entire house, and the witch's yelling resumed.

'Now she's opened the wardrobe,' the dark-haired boy smirked, and both boys laughed. The scene brought a tear to Remus's eye. They were acting so very like James and Sirius had, all those years before. Remus half-expected James to walk around the corner and congratulate the boys on their success.

'Well done, lads,' the familiar voice said, chuckling from a corner of the room Remus could not see. 'You should have seen the look on her face.'

Remus turned pale. It couldn't be.

'Thanks, Uncle James,' the dark-haired boy replied.

Remus heard light footsteps, followed by a slightly out-of-breath voice that sounded as though it belonged to an elderly man.

'She's coming down the back stairs,' the voice panted.

'How angry is she, Great-Great-Granddad?' asked the blond boy, but he didn't seem at all worried. 'Is it as bad as when we turned her cat pink?'

'Worse,' Great-Great-Granddad replied.

'As bad as when we blew up the fifth floor?' the dark-haired boy asked.

'Even worse.'

The boys shared a smirk. 'Grimmauld Place?' the dark-haired boy asked, and the blond boy nodded.

'Run along,' James's voice said. 'Go with Plan Delta. I'll cover for you.'

The boys nodded and dashed off, only moments before a furious looking harpy emerged into the dining room.

'Good morning, Aunt Cassie,' James said brightly. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Where are they?' Aunt Cassie growled.

'Where are who?' James asked politely.

'The scoundrels.'

'Oh, if you mean Aries and Draco, I'm afraid they've been gone all morning,' James replied. 'They went over to Grimmauld Place early to use the library.'

'I'm going to kill them,' Aunt Cassie said. 'I'm going to kill them both slowly and painfully.'

'Compose yourself, Cassie,' said Great-Great-Granddad. 'Why don't you take a nice hot bath?'

Aunt Cassie gave a fair imitation of a basilisk stare before sweeping off in a huff. She turned back briefly before exiting the room.

'Don't think I don't know who is the inspiration for all this nonsense, James Cygnus Potter,' she said acidly. 'If it were up to me I would reduce you to a pile of ashes.'

'Oh, but think of how poor Aries would react,' James said, and Remus could hear the wry grin in his voice. 'He might send Kaa after you again.'

Aunt Cassie gritted her teeth and stormed out, muttering darkly under her breath. Remus could only pick out a few bits: 'dratted snake,' 'undignified,' 'Dark Lords' and 'juvenile pranks.' Once she left, James let out a burst of hearty laughter that brought Remus's thoughts right back to Gryffindor Tower.

'Thanks for keeping watch, Granddad,' James said.

'Not at all, my boy, not at all,' Great-Great-Granddad replied. 'I was quite a prankster myself in my youth.'

'Really?' James sounded surprised.

'Where do you think you and Sirius got it from?' The voice yawned. 'Well, I'm going to go take a nap.'

'See you, Granddad.'

Remus couldn't resist. He slipped a bit further into the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of James. He found himself looking directly into the eyes of a very realistic portrait of his dead friend, who was sitting on a table and munching an apple. His hazel eyes flickered in recognition when he saw Remus.

'Moony? What are you doing in that ridiculous get-up?'


	8. Part I: Chapter 8

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 8

Cassiopeia Black swept up the back staircase in a huff, muttering curses under her breath as she took each step. The old witch had actually been rather fond of her nephew James when he was alive, at least after her own fashion, but she had very little tolerance for his portrait, which, she felt, preserved and exacerbated his more unsavoury Potter qualities, whilst minimising the part of him that had been purely Dorea. She also disapproved of the hold the portrait seemed to have over Aries, and, increasingly, Draco. James Potter would have proved a fine godfather, she had no doubt, but he was dead, and it in no way behoved the future Heads of the House of Black and Malfoy to spend their days listening to stories about James and Sirius's little gang and plotting all manner of pranks. If Aries and Draco had not both proved such apt pupils and proper little gentlemen when the situation demanded it, Cassiopeia would have smashed the portrait in a heartbeat. As it was, she was forced to admit that the boys generally behaved properly during their lessons and at public or adult occasions, more so even than most boys of their age and class, and so she resisted her violent urges. But she kept a close eye on her nephew's portrait.

Once she returned to her suite, Cassiopeia cleaned up the debris of the boys' offensive prank with a flick of her wand and a slight smile. Even she had to admire the boys' cunning, though she would never have admitted it to anyone, not in a million lifetimes. She returned to her mirror and resumed placing her long hair into its customary bun. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shape in her Foe-Glass and started. Her eyes narrowed. An enemy was close and in this very house—one who meant harm to her family and her plans. Cassiopeia Disillusioned herself and slipped silently back down the staircase as quickly as she could. The Squibs would never hold up against an enemy wizard for even a second. Cassiopeia was only grateful that Aries and Draco had gone to Grimmauld Place. She silently commanded her wards not to allow them to return, nor to allow any witch or wizard to enter or leave the house until the danger had passed.

She reached the bottom of the steps and entered the dining room. Marius stood there alongside a young man with awful orange hair and shockingly shabby robes. His wand was out. Marius was ashen.

'You don't understand, Moony,' James's portrait pleaded. 'It's not what it looks like.'

'Your son has been kidnapped by your uncle, is being raised as the son of the traitor who murdered you, and is happily playing pranks on a mad old harpy who merrily threatens six-year-old children with the Cruciatus Curse,' the young man retorted. 'What am I missing?'

Cassiopeia raised her wand and silently Stunned the raving fool. _Mad old harpy, indeed_, she thought. She removed her Disillusionment and smirked at the horrified looks on the faces of her brother and nephew.

'Apparently, the fool has missed quite a bit,' she drawled.

She ignored Marius's muttering and James's shouting as she levitated the young man's immobile form up the stairs to her rooms, carefully keeping his head from knocking against the stairs. When she reached her boudoir she laid the wizard on a small divan before shutting and locking all her doors. She absolutely loathed unexpected disturbances.

She Conjured heavy iron shackles and bound the wizard's feet to the floor and arms to the ceiling.

'_Ennervate_,' she muttered, and the wizard returned to consciousness.

'You,' he grumbled when he saw her.

'I,' Cassiopeia replied brightly. 'The mad old harpy. _Crucio!_'

The wizard cried out in agony as her curse rippled through his body. She held her wand in place for a full minute before she stopped.

'Now,' Cassiopeia continued imperiously, 'tell me your name and why you have come to my home.'

'My name is Remus Lupin,' the wizard said defiantly. 'As for why I have come here, that is my affair.'

Cassiopeia shook her head. 'That's the wrong answer, I'm afraid, Mr Lupin.' She sighed. 'Fortunately for you, I'm going over to my cousin's for lunch in just a little over an hour, and have no time to linger whilste we wait for you to come to your senses.' She Summoned a phial from her cabinet. 'Veritaserum ought to loosen your tongue.' She forced the potion down Lupin's throat, and in a moment the familiar dazed look appeared in his eyes. She began the interrogation.

'What is your full name?'

'Remus John Lupin.'

'Why have you come to my home?'

'I came searching for Harry Potter,' Lupin replied.

Cassiopeia scowled. 'And what, pray tell, made you believe that you would find the Boy Who Lived in this house?'

'Harry Potter was kidnapped from his Muggle relatives' home several months ago,' Lupin began. 'Albus Dumbledore asked me to help locate him. The memories of Harry's guardians had been modified, but I interviewed several others, including Harry's cousin. From them I learned the circumstances of Harry's departure, as well as the description and surname of the kidnappers and their preference for Muggle transportation.' Lupin paused. 'The Muggles mistreated Harry terribly, locking him in a cupboard under the stairs and calling him a worthless freak. I came to believe that perhaps the kidnapper was motivated by good intentions. I remembered that James's uncle was a Black and a Squib, and decided to investigate in the archives. It took a long time, but I discovered that around the time Harry vanished, Marius Black had taken in a boy of the same age, claiming him to be the son of Sirius Black.'

'And what makes you believe that Aries is not the son of Sirius Black?' Cassiopeia asked.

'I was very close to Sirius. We, James and Peter were together almost constantly. There is no way Sirius could have secretly married without our knowing about it. Furthermore, August 1, 1980 was listed as the date of the boy's birth, but I was in close quarters with Sirius that entire week, and would have known if he had gone to France to see his son.'

'Mightn't he have delayed the journey in order to avoid detection?'

Remus shook his head. 'Sirius could never have stood it. He would have wanted to be there right away. Moreover, he never showed any romantic interest in Regina Malfoy. At one point after Hogwarts, he actually encouraged me to ask her out.'

Cassiopeia frowned. That level of deception did seem uncharacteristic of her bombastic great-nephew. Under other circumstances she might have dismissed Lupin's theories as evidence of a diseased mind, but she had seen Marius and James's expressions. They had seemed only frustrated at Lupin, but positively terrified at the sight of Cassiopeia. In her view, this lent some legitimacy to Lupin's claims. But there were other questions.

'What you are saying cannot be accurate,' she mused. 'I performed a series of powerful tests on the boy, which he passed. There's no way...' A thin smile spread across her face as she realised what had occurred. 'I ought to give my little brother more credit. He must have commissioned the Sanguinis Impostor potion. It's the only explanation.' Her smile grew broader and crueller. 'Yes, everything makes sense now.'

This explained the incredible closeness between Aries and James's portrait, as well as the boy's eagerness to please, which, welcome as it was, did not ordinarily result from growing up as the only child in a wealthy, pureblood home. But if Aries was not Sirius's son at all, but rather James's, raised for the first part of his life by filthy Muggles, things were different.

Cassiopeia thought this development might also explain Aries' unique talents. He was a Parselmouth, a rare gift that had never before appeared in either of the Black or Malfoy lines, distinguished as they both were. The Potters, too, as far as Cassiopeia knew, had no Parselmouth ancestors. But James's wife's ancestry was unknown. It was assumed she was a Mudblood, but it was quite possible she came from a Squib line. More likely, given her substantial skills, she was a pureblood orphan who had somehow wound up in a Muggle orphanage and been adopted. The actual facts were of no consequence. All that mattered was that Lily Evans had obviously been a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Cassiopeia thought that perhaps she ought to treat Lily's portrait with more respect.

This, of course, explained the Dark Lord's attempt on Harry Potter's life. He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named had clearly learnt of Harry's exalted lineage and discovered his power. Not able to abide such a threat, he decided to murder the boy and finish off the opposition. This made perfect sense to Cassiopeia. It was the sort of thing she would have done had she been in the Dark Lord's position.

But Harry Potter had not only survived, but defeated the Dark Lord in the process. Cassiopeia cackled. It was brilliant! The boy was clearly a Dark wizard of prodigious talent. Marius had learnt of the circumstances the boy endured and decided to claim him for the House of Black. Cassiopeia approved wholeheartedly, since it meant that the greatest Dark Lord of all time was hers to mould and shape. She smiled proudly. Marius's plan had been worthy of Slytherin himself.

There were gaps, it was true, but now that Cassiopeia knew what they were, she could mend them. She turned her wand back on Lupin.

_'Obliviate_,' she whispered. '_Imperio_.'

* * *

When Remus Lupin left Windermere Court that day, he said nothing to anyone. As soon as left the street he forgot where he was and why he had come there. He went home via a circuitous route and directly composed the following letter to Albus Dumbledore.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore_, he wrote.

_I regret to inform you that my investigation has proved only partially successful. The Dursleys' neighbours on Privet Drive were able to identify Harry's kidnapper only as a blonde woman with an American accent. I have done my best to investigate further, but have been stymied at every turn. I think it most likely that the woman and Harry have left the country._

_I am sorry that I can be of no further help in this matter._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Remus J. Lupin_

After sending the letter, Remus put his Potter photos back in storage. As he caught a glimpse of Sirius's happy face, he sighed, and thought of all the innocent lives the traitor had ruined: James, Lily and Harry, of course, but also lovely Regina and poor Aries, who would never know his father. Remus thought momentarily of writing a letter to Regina and Aries in France, but soon reconsidered. There was no need to stir up painful memories.

* * *

Back at Windermere Court, Cassiopeia relaxed the wards and patted her brother gently on the cheek before leaving the house.

'Well done, Mar,' she said mistily. 'I'm so proud of you.' He said nothing, but only gaped after his sister stupidly as she left the house, whistling a merry tune.

On her way to visit Callidora Longbottom, Cassiopeia dropped by Surrey and Obliviated the Muggles, starting with the odious Dursley boy. She was, unfortunately, seven minutes late to lunch, and had to apologise profusely to Callidora, but it was worth it for Cassiopeia to know that her great-nephew would grow up in safety, preserved from the pernicious influence of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Harry and Draco returned from Grimmauld Place that afternoon, clutching heavy volumes of Dark and advanced magic to show their aunt as proof of their alibi. The boys couldn't really understand anything they read in those books, and their aunt knew it, but it pleased her to see them take an interest in 'special magic,' and the boys found the books most helpful at avoiding punishment.

Neither Marius nor James said anything to the boys about the strange events of the morning, and they went about their routine as though nothing had occurred. They flew their broomsticks in the garden until dinnertime, and then played Exploding Snap in the parlour until quite late, when Marius finally sent Draco home and Harry to bed. Harry never learnt how close he had been to having his secret revealed, and though he was pleased at the additional kindnesses Cassiopeia began to show him, he suspected nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore sighed in sad frustration. His troubles had begun with the letter from Remus Lupin. None of Dumbledore's other channels had yielded any fruit, and the Headmaster had counted a very great deal on the werewolf to locate the boy. If Harry had been taken out of the country, Dumbledore thought it highly unlikely that they could ever find him, not without involving the authorities, and Dumbledore thought it best not to instigate a panic by informing the world that the Boy Who Lived had been kidnapped.

Instead, Dumbledore decided to investigate the Hogwarts list to see if Harry Potter's name was still written there. it was the one way he knew of to make certain the boy was still alive. He unfurled the parchment with every expectation of finding consolation, but met only disappointment. Harry's name was gone. The Boy Who Lived had died, that was the only explanation.

Dumbledore returned to his office and composed letters to the Ministry, the Wizengamot and the _Daily Prophet_, informing them that Harry Potter had died that same day, from a tragic bout of dragon pox. It seemed that his battle with Voldemort had drained the poor boy's magical reserves so greatly that he was unable to fight off a simple infection.

* * *

When Cassiopeia read the news the next day, she cackled with glee. Marius and Clytemnestra felt a profound sense of relief. Two people, however, were confused and distressed by Dumbledore's lie. One was a certain werewolf in his late twenties, who was furious that Dumbledore would abandon the search for James's son so easily, and kept resolving to renew the search himself, only to be dissuaded each time by a strange compulsion to organise his bookshelves. The other was the Boy Who Still Lived himself, who felt that this new revelation only confirmed all the horrendous stories he had heard about Dumbledore from his family, and resolved never to trust anything the old man might say.

Meanwhile, in Azkaban prison, a certain godfather overheard the tragic news from a human guard, and spent the next three years howling in bitter sorrow.


	9. Part I: Chapter 9

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I've actually grown quite keen on this story, and all these lovely reviews make it ever so much more fun to write! Thank you all!**

**Important plot note - This is marked in the text, but make sure you don't miss that this chapter takes place three years after the previous one. A significant time gap, yes, but it's time for the plot to move forward, I think.**

**Hearty thanks to Horace Nihil for his help correcting the French!**

**And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 9

Three years later, Harry had grown into a strong, healthy and very bright boy. As his summer began, he revelled in his freedom from lessons and made preparations to visit his great-grandparents in the south of France, as he did every year. This year his cousin Draco would accompany him for the entire summer, which made both boys ecstatic. Harry and Draco were the best of friends, as close as brothers, and though they technically lived in different homes, they still managed to spend almost every day together. Of course, like all brothers, they had occasional disagreements, but they were really very fond of one another, and usually resolved such disputes quickly.

On the morning they were to leave for France, Harry was supervising as Mopsy the house elf packed his trunk. Draco waltzed into the bedroom just as Harry had finished his final inspection.

'Bonjour, Aries,' he greeted Aries cheerfully. 'Comment ça va?' The boys often spoke French together, especially in front of the house elves.

'Bien, Draco, et toi?' Harry replied.

'Bien. Tu es prêt?'

Harry nodded. 'Bien sûr, mais tu es venu ici très tôt. Le Portoloin ne partira pas avant midi.'

Draco shrugged. 'Je le sais, mais je n'ai pas envie de rester avec mes parents pendant toute la matinée.'

Harry could understand that. He wouldn't have wanted to spend all that time alone with Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa either. He closed and locked his trunk. Mopsy took the trunk downstairs.

'Care for a game of Exploding Snap?' Harry asked.

Draco agreed, and the two cousins settled on the floor and began to play.

'It's brilliant that your parents agreed for you to come to France for the whole summer,' Harry said as he dealt. 'Last year you could only come for a month.'

Draco smiled. 'You know my parents. They're just happy not to have to deal with me.' He picked up his hand.

'They do care about you, you know,' Harry assured him.

'Of course,' Draco laughed bitterly. 'I'm their heir. Everyone cares about the heir.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I have no idea how _that_ works,' he retorted sarcastically.

Draco chuckled. 'You have the Squibs though. They don't seem to care about the whole inheritance thing. I think they'd dote on you even if you were just a Mudblood foundling they discovered on their doorstep.'

'They just might,' Harry agreed with a grin. 'The Squibs have big hearts.'

'Well, they don't have magic,' Draco said. 'I suppose they need something to take up the extra space.'

After three games, of which Harry won one and Draco two, the boys went downstairs. Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra were waiting in the parlour.

'So, boys, are you excited?' Uncle Marius asked them with a fond smile. 'Two months of sunshine, no lessons and an enormous country estate practically to yourselves.'

'Not to mention Granny 's cooking,' Draco added wryly. Technically, Melania Black was only distantly related to Draco, but she insisted that both boys call her 'Granny,' and treated them both the same. (Aunt Cassie said it was her Hufflepuff roots.) Unlike most other wealthy pureblood witches, who left the cooking to the house elves, Melania carefully supervised her kitchen, and only used her elf for the menial tasks, freeing her to devote her energy to perfecting her artistry.

'Though, strictly speaking, we're not completely free from lessons,' Harry pointed out. 'Granny always works with us on our potion-brewing.'

Draco laughed. 'Those lessons are fun, though, not like with Aunt Cassie.' Ordinarily he would not have been so blatant about his dislike of his great-aunt, but today the old witch had gone over to Grimmauld Place to work on a project with her brother Pollux.

Uncle Marius checked his watch. 'The Portkey leaves in ten minutes. Better get ready.'

The boys gathered all their belongings and stood close together. Aunt Clytemnestra straightened out their robes and gave each boy a small hug before Uncle Marius ruffled their hair and handed them an empty bottle of firewhisky.

'Bon voyage,' he said, and the boys felt the familiar tug of the Portkey pulling them to France. They landed in a pile in the entrance hall of Arcturus Black's chateau. Melania Black was standing there to greet them, a soft smile on her face.

'Welcome, my dears,' she said, and embraced them both warmly. 'It's so very nice to have you back here.'

'It's good to be here, Granny,' Harry said, hugging her back. 'Where's Great-Grandfather?'

Melania frowned, and Harry thought she looked a bit more tired than she had the last time he had seen her.

'He's not doing very well,' she explained. 'He's lying down and resting at the moment. You'll see him later.' She summoned Roquefort, the house elf, and ordered him to take the boys' belongings to their rooms before she led Harry and Draco into the kitchen and sat them down at the table. 'You must be hungry,' she said. 'Why don't you tell me your news whilst I fix you up a little something?'

The boys chatted eagerly with the old witch as she slipped on her apron, drew her wand, and set to work. She was clearly ready for them. With a flick of her wand, she sent over a plate of thinly-sliced sausages, a loaf of freshly baked bread and a dish of tapenade. The boys' goblets filled with pumpkin juice. A bit later came the pâté, followed by duck with mushroom sauce. Then came the salad and a plate of goat cheese, and just when the boys thought they could not manage another bite, a tray of chocolate éclairs appeared: Granny's speciality. When the boys finally got up from the table, they decided to take a nap before heading outside to play one-on-one Quidditch. The summer was off to an excellent start.

* * *

Back in England, Pollux Black and his sister Cassiopeia were poring over ancient Latin codices and assorted scrolls. Two and a half years before, after Pollux had been boasting to Aries about his vast store of legal expertise, the boy had asked his great-grandfather whether there was anything that could be done to free his father from Azkaban. Ever since then, despite the onset of his illness, Pollux had set himself the goal of clearing the name of Sirius Black.

This task had taken on greater urgency due to the old man's advancing decrepitude. Pollux knew that he had little time left to live, and his cousin Arcturus had also been rather ill of late. There were no other Black wizards left to help guide Aries, and Pollux had no wish to see his heir pass entirely under the influence of the damnable Abraxas Malfoy, who, most unfortunately, seemed to remain in excellent health.

It had taken every ounce of influence he had left at the Ministry, but Pollux had learnt the appalling details of Sirius's incarceration. It horrified the old man that a Black could be so easily deprived of the customary rights belonging to wizards of their class and social standing, and he had managed to frighten Abraxas and Arcturus into using their influence and wealth to help remedy the situation. They had said nothing to Aries, however, not willing to raise false hopes in the poor boy.

Now, after a series of newspaper articles about Black contributions to wizarding history, a number of generous donations to the Ministry and the opening of the new Orion and Walburga Black Memorial Wing at St Mungo's, everything was finally ready. Pollux and Cassiopeia were preparing the final details of their case. They would go before the Wizengamot the next day, and Pollux had every confidence he would be able to secure his grandson's release. He was, after all, P. C. Black, Chief Warlock Emeritus.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat wearily in his chair the next morning, not eager for the day's work to begin. The Wizengamot confronted many unpleasant issues at the best of times, and today's docket promised to be especially painful. The very first case was a petition brought by Pollux Black.

Pollux had always been a rather unsavoury character, manipulative and vindictive. He had many enemies and few friends. But he was richer than Croesus, and his legal knowledge was unsurpassed. Dumbledore did not know what precisely the crotchety wizard had in mind, but he knew that whatever it was promised to make his life exceedingly difficult. All the Blacks seemed to have that talent, and Dumbledore had recently been surprised (and, secretly, a bit disappointed) to learn that Sirius, whom he had happily believed to be the end of the miserable line, had managed to reproduce, with a Malfoy no less, and that the son, Aries, would be attending Hogwarts in a little over a year. Dumbledore naturally intended to do his best not to prejudge the unfortunate boy, but his origins were hardly auspicious.

He reluctantly called the Wizengamot to order, and two of his least favourite people in the world appeared in front of him: Pollux Black and his spinster sister Cassiopeia, who had wreaked havoc on the Hogwarts Board of Governors since before Dumbledore had become Headmaster. Cassiopeia stood straight and proud, but Pollux sat hunched over in an ornately-carved walking chair.

'Professor Dumbledore,' Pollux announced, his voice shaking. 'Honoured members of the Wizengamot. I come before you this morning with a most serious grievance concerning a gross miscarriage of justice that has been perpetrated by the Ministry of Magic against my grandson, Sirius Orion Black.'

Dumbledore turned pale. What did the old man have up his sleeve?

'I have learnt that my grandson, the heir to the Headship of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, was thrown into Azkaban nine years ago without even the benefit of a trial,' Pollux continued. There were several gasps, and several more angry murmurs. Pollux flicked his wand and sent a scroll to the evidence desk. 'This scroll contains a copy of the order to imprison Sirius immediately, without a trial. It bears the signatures of Millicent Bagnold, then-Minister for Magic, and Bartemius Crouch, then-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

A similar scroll appeared before each member of the Wizengamot. They unravelled the scrolls and looked them over carefully. The angry murmurs increased.

'As the honourable members can all plainly see, the offences cited in justification of my grandson's imprisonment are two,' Pollux went on. 'Sirius is firstly accused of having betrayed the Potters to Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and secondly of murdering Peter Pettigrew and a number of Muggles. These crimes are certainly heinous, but we must not allow their seriousness to obscure our sense of justice. Every witch and wizard has an absolute right to a full trial.'

Dumbledore frowned. He did not like where this was headed.

'The injustice in the present case is greatly exacerbated by the frivolous nature of the evidence on which the decision was based,' Pollux said. 'It is claimed that Sirius Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper, and therefore the only one who could have betrayed them to the Dark Lord. Yet we have no solid evidence to confirm this.'

'Actually, Pollux, there is no doubt that Sirius was the Potters' Secret Keeper,' Dumbledore said. 'I gave evidence on this myself.'

Pollux smiled condescendingly. 'Quite right, _Headmaster_,' he said, emphasising his obstinate refusal to refer to Dumbledore as Chief Warlock, and sent another scroll to the evidence desk. 'You have before you the official testimony of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. As you see, the professor is quite adamant that James Potter told him that he intended to make Sirius his Secret Keeper.'

'Are you insinuating that the Chief Warlock told a lie?' an angry witch demanded.

'Not at all,' Pollux said calmly. 'However, his so-called evidence is inadmissible. Professor Dumbledore _said_ that James Potter _said_ that he was _planning_ to make Sirius his Secret Keeper. This is only hearsay. The Headmaster has no direct knowledge that Sirius was ever in fact the Secret Keeper, nor even that the Fidelius Charm was actually performed. I would remind the Wizengamot that under the rules of procedure laid down by Merlin himself, hearsay may not be used to convict a wizard of a crime.'

'What about Peter Pettigrew's evidence?' another wizard asked.

'Ah, yes, Peter Pettigrew's evidence.' Pollux smiled. 'Alas, here too we are dealing with hearsay. An Auror _reported_ that a Muggle _claimed _that Pettigrew _accused_ Sirius of having betrayed James and Lily. One might as well throw a child into Azkaban because another wizard heard a house-elf claim to have heard the child threaten to kill another child after losing a game of Quidditch.'

More murmuring erupted. Dumbledore knew he was losing control of the situation.

'There is also the murder of Peter Pettigrew to consider,' he pointed out.

Pollux laughed. 'And what evidence is there to prove that? An Auror reported that a Muggle claimed to have seen the two wizards arguing, followed by an explosion. The Evidence Statute of 1236 clearly states that Muggle evidence is not to be relied upon in such cases, and rightly so, inasmuch as the unreliability of Muggles in any such situation is obvious to all right-thinking people.'

'Sirius was found at the scene of the crime afterwards,' Amelia Bones reminded the old man. 'He laughed madly at the murder.'

Pollux narrowed his eyes. 'Precisely, Madam Bones. He laughed _madly_, a response that I believe indicates only that Sirius was driven momentarily insane by the sudden tragic loss of three of his closest friends. What further evidence is there? Was _Priori Incantatem_ performed on his wand? Was he interrogated under Veritaserum? If so, there is no evidence in the record of anything of the sort having been done.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'Are you asking for Sirius to be given a trial?'

'At this late date?' Pollux snarled. 'Don't be preposterous. Sirius has sat in prison for nine horrible years, without ever receiving a trial. All the evidence provided is flimsy at best, nonsensical at worst. The only witnesses to the supposed crimes are dead or long Obliviated. On the basis of the Criminal Trials Act of 1739 I demand that Sirius Black be released immediately, the case dismissed and his record cleared.'

'Now you're the one who's being preposterous,' Dumbledore replied.

'Hardly, Headmaster,' Pollux drawled. 'The Criminal Trials Act clearly specifies that no pureblood witch or wizard is to be held without trial for longer than thirty days. In the event that such a violation does occur, the accused is to be released at once and cleared of all charges.'

Dumbledore sighed. This was shaping up to be a very unpleasant day indeed.

* * *

The dog that was Sirius Black sat on his haunches, howling at the window of his cell, just as he did every day. His canine thoughts raced incessantly.

Harry was dead. James was dead. Lily was dead. Sirius was stuck in this miserable hellhole. Peter had betrayed them all.

Harry was dead. James was dead. Lily was dead. Sirius was stuck in this miserable hellhole. Peter had betrayed them all.

Harry was dead. James was dead. Lily...

The dark cloud of the Dementors lifted a bit, and the dog stopped howling. He heard footsteps outside the door of his cell and transformed. The door swung open, revealing an Auror.

'Come with me, Mr Black,' the Auror commanded. Sirius followed him meekly through the winding corridors of the prison, until they finally came out in a brightly lit waiting room, where another Auror was standing alongside an elderly witch Sirius had not seen in many years.

'Aunt Cassie?' he said in confusion. 'What are you doing here?'

The witch said nothing, but the second Auror stepped forward and unrolled a scroll.

'Sirius Orion Black,' he read. 'At ten-thirty this morning the Wizengamot voted on procedural grounds to clear you of all charges and order your immediate release from Azkaban. All your rights are hereby restored. The Ministry of Magic will deposit fifty thousand Galleons in your Gringotts vault, with their apologies, on the condition that you sign a waiver promising never to bring a lawsuit against the Ministry or any past or present Ministry officials over this matter. Do you agree to the waiver?'

Sirius was stunned. He thought he must be dreaming.

'Do you agree to the waiver?' the Auror repeated. Sirius nodded dumbly, and signed the parchment the Auror held out to him. His hand shook terribly. 'On behalf of the Ministry of Magic,' the Auror continued, 'allow me to express our sincerest apologies for the mistakes made in your arrest and incarceration, and to wish you all the best in your future endeavours.'

'Congratulations, Sirius,' Aunt Cassie said, and motioned for Sirius to go with her.

They stepped into another room with a single large fireplace and Flooed directly to the Ministry. At the other end a couple of Aurors asked for their papers. Aunt Cassie handed over a roll of parchment, and the Aurors let them leave. Aunt Cassie led Sirius to a discreet fireplace that was used only for the departure of released convicts, and they Flooed to a familiar flat. It was the flat Sirius had inherited from Uncle Alphard and shared with James after they finished Hogwarts.

'Welcome home, Sirius,' Aunt Cassie said, and Sirius broke down in tears. The old witch showed him little sympathy. 'For Merlin's sake, calm yourself, Sirius.' He continued to weep. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes. 'There is no time for this, Sirius. You have your godson to think of, after all.'

'Harry's dead,' Sirius said bitterly.

'No, he isn't,' Aunt Cassie replied crisply.

Sirius stopped crying and looked at her hopefully. 'He isn't? Where is he? What happened?'

Aunt Cassie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'Harry Potter is well for the time being. If you value his life, you must listen carefully to me and do exactly as I say.'

Sirius looked his great-aunt firmly in the eyes. 'I'm listening.'

* * *

A month later, in the south of France, the Black household was making preparations for Harry's upcoming birthday. The entire extended Black and Malfoy families were coming, as had become their tradition over the years. For Harry and Draco, this year's celebration was particularly significant, as Aunt Cassie had agreed to take them both back to England on August 2, in order to buy their wands.

For several days leading up to the celebration, the house was in an uproar. Granny spent all her time in the kitchen with Roquefort, her skilled house elf, making preparations for an enormous feast. Mopsy came over from England to decorate the chateau, filling every room with fresh flowers and streamers.

The guests came over a few at a time. Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra came first, followed the next day by the Malfoys. Pollux and Irma came the day before Harry's birthday, along with a teenage witch with pink hair.

'Dora!' Harry exclaimed. 'It's been ages.' Pollux had fulfilled his promise to take Harry and Draco to meet their cousin Nymphadora Tonks a couple of years before, but they hadn't seen each other very often since then. Family tensions still ran high. 'I thought your mum and dad didn't want you to come.'

Dora shrugged. 'They didn't. But I'm seventeen now, so I can do what I like.'

'We're glad to have you, dear,' Melania said.

On August 1, Harry's birthday dinner began promptly at noon, with mountains of food and plenty of laughter. Halfway through there was a flash, and Aunt Cassie appeared, clutching a hairbrush together with a tall man with shoulder-length black hair.

'Happy birthday, Aries,' Aunt Cassie said. 'I apologise for our tardiness.' She gestured towards the stranger. 'I've brought someone you should meet.'

Harry looked at the man for what seemed an eternity before he recognised him. The man's robes were elegant, and his hair and beard were neatly trimmed and well kept. But he was very thin, and his grey eyes bore a sunken, haunted look. He looked different, but Harry had seen him in plenty of pictures and heard countless stories about him. It was his godfather and supposed father: Sirius Black. Harry began to panic. Everything was going to be ruined. He looked at Uncle Marius anxiously, but the Squib smiled at Harry reassuringly, and nodded slightly. Harry swallowed hard.

'I know you,' he said quietly. 'You're my dad. You're Sirius Black.' Draco and Dora gasped, but none of the adults seemed surprised.

Harry waited for the confused look, the loud denial, the angry rejection, but they never came. Sirius only smiled a bit nervously and nodded.

'That's right, Aries,' he said sheepishly. 'And I'd know you anywhere, even if I haven't seen you since you were a baby.' He looked at Harry meaningfully. 'You look just like your dad. Except for the eyes. You have your mother's eyes.' He winked at Harry imperceptibly, and in that instant the boy understood. Somehow Sirius knew everything that had happened, but he still wanted Harry. Harry suddenly felt an inexpressible warmth wash over him. Sirius was free, he knew who Harry really was, and he still wanted _him_. Sirius held his arms wide and gave Harry a tentative look, as though frightened that Harry might not want him in return. The tears burst forth unbidden as Harry ran to Sirius and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go, savouring his (god)father's affectionate embrace.

'Happy birthday, son,' Sirius whispered into his ear, and roughly kissed the top of Harry's head.

'Thanks, Dad,' Harry murmured through his tears.


	10. Part I: Chapter 10

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: We've made it to Chapter 10! This is a big milestone. An enormous thank you to all the readers who have been reading since the beginning, and to all the new readers as well.**

**And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 10

Harry pulled Sirius over to the table and they sat down. Arcturus rose from his seat and raised a glass.

'Allow me to propose a toast,' he said in his high, reedy voice, 'to my grandson, Sirius Orion Black, heir to our Noble and Most Ancient House, and to his fine son, Aries Sirius Black, who has turned into such a magnificent young gentleman, a tribute to his breeding and upbringing. Sirius and Aries!'

'Sirius and Aries,' the family mumbled. Arcturus sat back down.

'Merlin, Sirius, it's good to have you back,' Melania gushed, piling food high on his plate with her wand. 'You're awfully thin. It's not healthy. Not to worry, though. We shall have you fixed up in no time.'

Cassiopeia coughed pointedly.

'Thank you, Granny,' Sirius said. 'Actually, Aunt Cassie has already done a good bit of fixing me up and bringing me up to date. I don't know how I could have managed without her.'

'Oh, it's nothing at all,' Cassiopeia said, blushing faintly.

'Oh no, Aunt Cassie, I'm very grateful to you,' Sirius said. 'I'm especially thankful for the excellent tutoring you've been giving Aries. I do hope you'll continue.'

Cassiopeia beamed at him. 'Well, if you insist, dear, I suppose I can. We must provide only the best for darling Aries.'

'Yes, I see no reason why anything should change, simply because Sirius is free,' Pollux opined. 'You and the Squibs have been doing a fine job of raising Aries, and I'm sure Sirius will be only too happy to maintain the status quo.'

Irma rolled her eyes. Marius and Clytemnestra just sighed.

'Well, I for one am glad that little Aries has a father,' Abraxas said. 'You're a fine boy, Sirius. Allow me to express my joy at having you as my son-in-law, and to welcome you to the Malfoy family. Our home is your home.'

Lucius muttered darkly under his breath.

'Thank you, Mr Malfoy,' Sirius said.

Abraxas chuckled. 'Please, call me "Dad."'

Lucius continued his angry muttering. Harry glanced over at Draco and rolled his eyes. Draco chuckled, but not before Harry had seen a look of longing in his cousin's eyes as he stared at the way Sirius had his arm around Harry's shoulders.

'By the way, Aries,' Cassiopeia piped up. 'Don't forget that your father and I shall take you and Draco to Diagon Alley tomorrow in order to purchase your wands. That will give you a good month of practice before you return to England.'

Pollux harrumphed. 'I don't see the need for these preposterous restrictions on underage magic. The French take a much more sensible line on this, I think.'

'Well, our children manage to do magic at home without being detected,' Irma replied acidly. 'I don't think their having to abstain in public is such an insuperable hardship.'

'Not all families allow their children to use magic at home, Irma,' Melania pointed out. 'I was never allowed to practice during the holidays.'

'Yes, dear,' Irma replied in a saccharine voice. 'But you come from a family of Hufflepuffs.'

'Don't let your great-grandmother prejudice you, boys,' Melania said to Aries and Draco. 'Hufflepuff is a fine House.'

'I'm with you, Granny,' Dora said proudly.

'Draco, if you're Sorted into Hufflepuff, I swear I'll disown you,' Lucius said evenly.

'Don't be ridiculous, Lucius,' Abraxas said. 'Draco will go wherever Aries goes, and where else could our little Parselmouth go but Slytherin?'

Lucius resumed his muttering.

'I don't know, Dad,' Sirius said with a mischievous smile. 'Aries could take after his father and wind up in Gryffindor.'

Everyone fell silent and scowled at Sirius. Harry jumped in to his father's defence.

'That's brilliant, Dad!' he said. He gave Draco a pointed look, and his cousin jumped in.

'That's right, Uncle Sirius,' Draco said. 'It would be wicked for me and Aries to wind up in Gryffindor! Who knew you were so devious?'

'What are you babbling on about, Draco?' Lucius demanded.

'Think about it, Uncle Lucius,' Harry said. 'If I'm to fulfil my true destiny, it's essential to keep meddling old fools like Albus Dumbledore from suspecting what I'm up to.'

'He'll watch us like a hawk if we're in Slytherin, given our family backgrounds,' Draco said.

'The prejudiced old codger,' Pollux muttered emphatically.

'But in Gryffindor, we could do as we please, without fear of retribution,' Draco continued.

'We can build up our power bases without opposition,' Harry added.

'And when the time is right, we strike,' Sirius said brightly, to everyone's shock and delight. 'The Muggle-loving fools won't know what hit them.' Harry and Draco looked up at him in a mixture of surprise and admiration. No adult had ever caught onto them so quickly before, still less joined in.

Cassiopeia cackled. 'A fine plan. Worthy of Slytherin's true Heir.'

Abraxas chuckled thoughtfully. 'You make good points, boys. If anything, I think this proves the two of you think like Slytherins. But, if you can pull it off, your plot has my blessing.'

'No one would expect the next Dark Lord to come from Hufflepuff, either,' Melania said, sulking, but no one paid her any mind, except for poor Dora, who was beginning to understand just why her parents wanted her to keep her distance from the House of Black.

After dinner, Sirius, Harry, Draco and Abraxas went outside for a game of two-on-two Quidditch. Harry and Sirius teamed up against Draco and Abraxas, and the teams were fairly evenly matched. Sirius and Harry won the first match, and then Sirius suggested they switch. Draco seemed surprised.

'I thought you'd want to spend time with Aries,' he sputtered.

'I do,' Sirius said. 'But I'd also like to get to know my favourite nephew.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Uncle Sirius, I'm your only nephew.'

Sirius grinned. 'Precisely.'

Abraxas and Harry won the second match handily, and Draco looked a bit frustrated, but Sirius ruffled his hair and promised him that they'd play again the next day after they got back from Diagon Alley.

'And tomorrow, we'll win,' Sirius assured his nephew.

'In your dreams,' Abraxas retorted. Harry and Draco both laughed.

* * *

Late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Sirius slipped into Harry's room and sat on the edge of his bed.

'Aries, are you awake?' he asked.

Harry yawned. 'I am now,' he mumbled.

'We can talk tomorrow, if you'd rather,' Sirius offered.

Harry shook his head. 'No, I'm up.' He sat up in his bed. 'Thanks for looking out for Draco earlier today,' he said. 'I think he's feeling left out.'

Sirius chuckled. 'I noticed. I saw the way he was watching us at dinner. It reminded me actually of how envious I used to feel of James and his family. Mr Potter did his best to make me feel at home, and I suppose the least I can do is try to do the same thing for Draco.' He paused. 'Harry, we need to talk about something.'

Harry's face fell. He knew it was too good to be true. 'Don't worry. I know you're not my real father.' He looked up at Sirius earnestly. 'I really appreciate your playing along. I don't want to go back to the Muggles.'

'That's not what I meant, Harry,' Sirius said. 'In the first place, I want to make sure I know the whole story. Aunt Cassie explained most of it, but I don't know how much you've told her.'

Harry's eyes went wide. 'Aunt Cassie knows? We haven't told her anything. How did she find out?'

'She didn't tell me.'

'Why does she play along then?'

Sirius smirked. 'Let's just say that the fact that you vanquished Voldemort as a baby feeds her fantasies about your Dark power.'

'You said his name!' Harry exclaimed. 'No one ever says his name.'

Sirius just shrugged. 'Let's start from the beginning, shall we?'

Harry explained how life had been at the Dursleys before the Squibs rescued him, and how they had disguised Harry using a potion. He talked about the past few years and how he appreciated his quirky family. He talked about Draco and the pranks they played. Sirius laughed at that.

'It sounds like me and your dad,' he said. 'We did that sort of thing all the time.'

'I know, Dad,' Harry said. 'Uncle James told me. Where do you think we got the idea?'

Sirius frowned. 'I want you to remember that James Potter is your real dad. You can even just call me Sirius when we're alone.'

Harry nodded. 'I understand. You'll probably want children of your own some day. Real children.'

Sirius looked at Harry strangely, and then laughed out loud.

'That's not what I meant, Harry,' he said fondly. 'Your dad was the best friend I ever had, and a wonderful man. It would feel like betraying him if I let you forget that you're really a Potter. I could never forgive myself.' He put his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'As for you, though, I've loved you since before you were born, and I'm honoured to have the opportunity to care for you.'

'Really?' Harry asked in a small voice.

'Absolutely,' Sirius replied. He chuckled. 'In some ways, I feel guilty. You look like me. You use my name. It's like I've stolen you.'

Harry looked surprised. 'I never thought of it that way. I've just always wanted a real dad. The portraits are great and all, but...' He trailed off.

'They get old after a while,' Sirius finished for him. 'They never change or grow.'

'Exactly. Once I accidentally went two whole days without talking to them, and they didn't even notice.'

'Of course they didn't,' Sirius said. 'They're designed that way.'

Harry shrugged. 'I think that's when I realised for the first time that they weren't real people, that my real dad was dead.'

'Well, I don't know how good I'll be at filling his shoes,' Sirius said hesitantly. 'He was a special man. But I'll do my best.'

Harry chewed his lower lip. 'Do you mind if I call you Dad, even when we're in private?'

Sirius looked surprised. 'Not at all. I thought you wouldn't want to. I'm just some stranger who's barged into your life, after all.'

Harry laughed. 'Hardly. I've been looking at your pictures and hearing stories about you since I was six. I used to dream that you'd come live with us, and that we'd finally be a real family.' He paused. 'Sometimes I had nightmares, though, that you wouldn't want me.'

Sirius hugged Harry tightly. 'Never think that, Harry. Never think that.'

Harry chuckled. 'It's just a stupid dream, right? I used to have lots of dreams about an enormous black dog too. They say that's the Grim, and to dream of it is bad luck, but nothing bad ever happened.'

Sirius smiled. 'Actually, Harry, in your case, I think the Grim is good luck.'

'Why's that?'

'Can you keep a secret?' Sirius asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Think about who you're talking to.'

Sirius laughed. 'Good point.' He transformed, then and there. Harry let out a small yelp, but then began to run his fingers through the dog's magnificent fur. He sniggered.

'Aunt Cassie's going to have kittens,' he said with a grin. 'She hates dogs.'

* * *

The next day after breakfast Harry, Draco, Sirius and Cassiopeia took a Portkey to Windermere Court, and then Flooed to Diagon Alley. The passers-by whispered as they walked along the street towards Ollivander's. Several people shot Sirius nasty looks, and one witch actually came up to him and started yelling before Cassiopeia blasted her out of the way with a flick of her wand. The sudden protests were deafening.

'Self-defence,' Cassiopeia snarled at the angry crowd. 'Next time I shan't be so gentle.' The crowd reluctantly backed away.

The quartet arrived at Ollivander's without further incident, and the elderly wandmaker greeted them profusely.

'Ah, Miss Black, it is a delight to see you,' he said, bowing. 'Walnut, 12 inches, dragon heartstring, as I recall. Quite rigid.' He turned to Sirius. 'Mr Black, what a surprise. I suppose you'll be wanting a new wand?'

Sirius nodded, and Ollivander began searching through boxes. It took a few tries, but they settled on a mahogany wand with a dragon heartstring core, fourteen inches.

'Is there anything else I can do for you?' he asked politely.

'Yes, in fact,' said Sirius. 'We're also here to buy wands for my son and nephew.'

Ollivander furrowed his brow. 'Are the boys eleven yet, Mr Black?'

'Not yet,' Sirius said calmly.

'This is a most unusual request,' Ollivander began, but stopped at Cassiopeia's death glare. 'One I am sure we can accommodate.'

He looked for Draco's wand first, and it didn't take long before the blond boy was matched up with a ten-inch hawthorn wand with a unicorn hair core. Then Ollivander began to look for Harry's wand. It took a very long time, and they went through half the wands in the store, with the old wandmaker growing ever more excited as they failed to make a match. Finally, he handed Harry an eleven-inch holly wand with a phoenix feather core.

'Try this,' he said eagerly.

Harry took the wand, and instantly knew this was the right choice. Sparks flew and Ollivander applauded.

'Very interesting, Mr Black,' he said thoughtfully. 'Very interesting, indeed.'

'What's interesting?' Cassiopeia demanded.

'You, see, madam,' Ollivander explained, 'the phoenix whose feather is in this wand gave one other feather, just one. That wand went on to do many great things.' He looked Harry in the eyes, and Harry felt a chill run up his spine. 'How intriguing, that you should wind up with this particular wand, especially given the identity of its brother's owner.'

'Who owned the other wand?' Cassiopeia snapped.

Ollivander's gaze did not waver from Harry as he replied.

'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

* * *

Sirius and Draco ended up playing one-on-one Quidditch that afternoon, as everyone else was fawning over Harry and his new wand. Cassiopeia retold the story over and over again, and even Lucius didn't seem able to pull himself away. Abraxas, Pollux and Arcturus were ecstatic. When Sirius and Draco had finished playing and began to head back in, the fuss had yet to subside.

'Poor Aries,' Sirius said to Draco as they watched Harry through the window. 'He looks miserable in there.'

'I don't know why,' Draco replied. 'He should be used to all the attention by now.'

'I think he'd rather be out here playing Quidditch with us.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Of course he would. That's what's so frustrating.'

Sirius looked at Draco curiously. 'What do you mean?'

The blond boy laughed mirthlessly. 'Aries has had the whole family fawning over him ever since he came to England. Any normal boy would get a big head about it, and you could hate him with a clear conscience. But Aries is different. They treat him like he's Salazar reborn, but he treats me like we're the same. He thinks the fact that everyone expects him to be the next Dark Lord is some enormous joke.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'What do you think?'

Draco sighed. 'I think it's terrifying,' he replied seriously. 'We read about Grindelwald, and Aunt Cassie starts crowing about how Aries will kill twice as many Mudbloods as he did. Aries runs into a garden snake at Grimmauld Place, and Great-Granddad makes him give a Parseltongue demonstration for an hour. He throws a Quaffle inside and breaks one of Mum's vases, and all he has to do is ask Granddad about some obscure point in _Magick Moste Evile_, and he's out of trouble.'

'You're jealous,' Sirius observed.

Draco scoffed. 'Not about that rubbish!'

'What about, then?'

'I'm jealous about the Squibs,' Draco said after a pause. 'They really care about Aries, and they don't care whether he grows up to be the true Heir of Slytherin or a Curse Breaker for Gringotts. The only person I have who treats me that way is Aries.' He glared at Sirius. 'That's why I expect you not to let him down, Uncle Sirius. Aries needs more people who love him for who he is, not what he is, or what he might be.'

Sirius grinned and gestured at his nephew. 'It looks like he already has someone like that.'

Draco shrugged. 'Someone has to keep an eye on the fellow. They'll eat him alive.' He paused. 'I worry about him, though.'

'What about?'

'Mostly that they'll all turn out to be right,' Draco said. 'I don't _want_ Aries to be the next Dark Lord.'

'Why's that?' Sirius asked.

'It's not that I'm a Muggle-lover or anything,' Draco said hastily. 'I'm all for the purity of the Wizarding race, same as anyone.' He chewed his lower lip. 'But when I hear them describe the things they hope he'll do...' He sighed. 'Aries is special. I don't want him to turn into some kind of monster.' He set his jaw firmly. 'And I promised myself on his eighth birthday that I would stay beside him and not let that happen.'

'We're on the same page, then,' Sirius said with a chuckle. 'Are you willing to take on a partner in crime?'

Draco smirked. 'Why not? I am tired of working alone.'

Sirius laughed and tousled his nephew's hair. 'You're a good lad, Draco.'

The blond boy grinned. 'You're not bad yourself, Uncle Sirius.'


	11. Part I: Chapter 11

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my marvellous readers and reviewers.**** Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 11

The family returned to England on August 3, leaving Harry, Draco and Sirius to enjoy the rest of their summer in peace. They played a lot of Quidditch and explored the woods around the chateau, but mostly Sirius helped the boys as they practiced spells. Harry and Draco already knew dozens of incantations, and they had been memorising wand movements ever since Cassiopeia had given them practice wands, but it proved to be rather a difficult task for the boys to combine the external technique with their magic. On the day they were working on the Levitation Charm, the weather was sweltering, and they hadn't had any luck. Harry was getting rather annoyed.

'Come on, Aries,' Sirius urged. 'You have to envision the feather flying. Picture your magic reaching out through the wand and lifting it up into the air.'

'_Wingardium leviosa_,' Harry intoned for the fifth time, and this time, finally, his feather soared gracefully into the air.

Draco clapped. 'You did it! Now it's my turn.' He hopped off the fence on which he was sitting and ran over. Harry levitated the feather back to its spot on a large rock. Draco drew his wand and slashed it at the feather.

'_Wingardium leviosa_,' he said, and the feather moved slightly.

'Focus, Draco,' Sirius said. 'Your wand isn't a battle-axe. Try to ease up just a bit.'

Draco tried again, and this time sent the feather soaring.

'Well done,' Sirius said, clapping Draco on the back. 'And only on your second try.'

'Good job, Draco,' Harry mumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He wasn't used to being beaten by Draco in lessons, and didn't think he liked it.

'I want to try again,' Draco said, but Sirius stopped him.

'Wait, it's Aries' turn.'

'No, it's all right,' Harry said glumly. 'I'm done for now. You go ahead.'

Sirius frowned, but went back to helping Draco. Harry felt something roar in anger deep inside him. Sirius was supposed to be _his _dad, wasn't he? And Harry was _always_ the best in lessons. Draco provided stiff competition, of course, but this time he had got the spell in half the time it had taken Harry.

_You're being stupid_, he told himself. _Draco was only a bit ahead of you, and he had the chance to watch Dad working with you._

But Dad's working with _him_ now.

Harry thought back to his first conversation with Draco, in which he had promised not to steal Draco's parents if Draco wouldn't steal the Squibs. They had kept that bargain, but they had never discussed what to do if Sirius came back into the picture.

_You wanted Dad to give Draco some attention, remember?_

Shut up.

Harry wandered off into the woods. He snorted. Dad and Draco probably wouldn't even notice. He followed a little stream as it wound its way through the trees, kicking clods of mud into the clear water as he walked. There was a sudden, angry hiss.

'You're disturbing my nest, human,' he heard, and turned around to see an enormous adder.

'Leave me alone,' Harry commanded, and the snake pulled back.

'I have heard of you, my lord,' it hissed back. 'You are the great wizard who speaks the noble tongue.'

'How great a wizard can I be, if it takes me five tries to get the Levitation Charm?' He sat down by the side of the stream. 'Draco got it in two.'

The snake laughed. 'There is more than one kind of magic, is there not? Can this Draco speak with serpents?'

'No.'

'Then there is at least one way in which you are his superior.'

'I don't want to be his superior,' Harry said, but the hissing rang false even to his own ears.

'If that's true, then why does it bother you that the other boy outperforms you? Does he always do so?'

Harry shook his head. 'No. If anything it's usually the other way around.'

'Does the other boy storm off when you surpass him?'

Harry laughed despite himself. 'Sometimes, but not often.'

'Is this Draco your bitter enemy?'

'Not at all. He's my cousin, practically my brother.'

The snake slithered closer to Harry. 'Forgive me, my lord. I am afraid I do not see the cause of your frustration.'

Harry paused. 'I guess I'm used to being the centre of everyone's attention,' he said, but that did not feel right either.

'Is everyone paying Draco a great deal of attention?'

Harry sighed. 'No. It's just my dad.'

The snake hissed triumphantly. 'Now I understand. You are possessive of your parent. You wish to keep him entirely for yourself.'

'I wanted Dad to spend some time with Draco,' Harry said in feeble protest, though he knew the snake was right. 'He's my best friend, and his own dad doesn't pay him very much attention, except when he gets in trouble.'

'Do you believe that your parent has come to care for your friend more than he does for you?'

Harry thought about that. 'No.'

'Do you wish for your parent to care for your friend less than he does?'

Harry shook his head and laughed. 'I'm being stupid, aren't I?'

'I cannot judge that, my lord,' the snake replied. 'I do not understand the complexities of human interpersonal relationships.' It paused. 'However, if you value Draco highly...'

'I do,' Harry said earnestly.

'And if you wish your parent also to value Draco...'

'I do.'

'Then it would seem you have received exactly what you wished for.'

'In other words, I'm being stupid,' Harry replied, picking himself off the grass. 'Thanks for listening.'

'Any time, noble sorcerer,' the snake hissed back. He flickered his tongue a few times. 'May I make a small request, my lord?'

'Go ahead.'

'Could you show me some magic?'

Harry laughed and pointed his wand at a twig on the grass. '_Wingardium leviosa_,' he hissed, and was stunned when the twig flew thirty feet in the air.

The snake was impressed. 'My lord is a very powerful wizard. Where did you learn the classical tongue of the Serpent Lords?'

Harry stared at the snake blankly. 'What do you mean?'

'You delivered your incantation in the ancient tongue.'

'I said the spell in Parseltongue?' Harry was surprised. He had not meant to do so.

'Indeed, my lord,' the snake said.

'I wonder if that's why the spell was more powerful,' Harry mused. He tried another spell with which he had yet to have much success. '_Aguamenti_,' he hissed, and a torrent of water burst forth from the tip of his wand.

'Impressive,' said the snake.

'This is brilliant!' Harry exclaimed, all his anger and frustration forgotten. 'I've got to show Dad and Draco.' He bade the adder farewell and ran off to join the others.

'There you are, Aries,' Draco said when Harry came back. The blond boy was standing alone by the fence where they had been practicing. 'We were wondering where you ran off to. Uncle Sirius went to go look for you.' He beamed. 'I managed the Aguamenti Charm, and Alohomora too.'

'Well done,' Harry said, with a good deal more enthusiasm than he had when Draco had mastered the Levitation Charm. 'I did Aguamenti too. Look at this.' He raised his wand and let out a strangled hiss. A torrent of water once again burst from the tip of his wand.

'Wicked!' Draco's eyes were wide with excitement. 'Did you say the spell in Parseltongue?'

Harry nodded eagerly. 'I didn't even know I could.'

Sirius came jogging down from the house. When he saw Harry he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

'There you are, Aries,' he panted. 'I was worried about you.'

'Sorry, Dad,' Harry replied, feeling foolish about his bout of jealousy. 'I just needed a bit of a walk, that's all.'

'Look what he can do, Uncle Sirius,' Draco said eagerly. 'Show him, Aries.'

Harry levelled his wand towards the feather with which they had been practicing and hissed. The feather burst into flames.

Sirius applauded. 'That was fantastic! I never knew you could do spells in Parseltongue.'

'I didn't either, Dad. I was talking to a snake in the woods and it asked to see some magic. I suppose I forgot to switch to human speech before I said the spell, and the twig shot thirty feet into the air!'

'Do you think Parseltongue makes your spells more powerful?' Draco asked.

'I don't know,' Harry said. 'It looks like it.'

Sirius stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'We'll have to look into it. It could be that the Parseltongue just helps you to focus better. That's why we use Latin for spells, after all. Perhaps Aunt Cassie will have an idea.'

Draco and Harry groaned in unison.

'She's going to go on about this until Christmas,' Harry grumbled.

Draco nodded. 'And once she gets going, everyone else will join in. We'll never hear the end of it.'

Sirius chuckled. 'Or we can keep it a secret.'

Both boys nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

One morning after breakfast, a week before they returned to England, Sirius came into the playroom and announced that the boys would have a different sort of lesson that day.

'What are we going to do, Dad?' Harry asked.

Sirius grinned. 'We're going to leave the chateau and travel undercover in the Muggle world.'

'What is there to do in the Muggle world?' Draco scoffed.

'We are going to study the finer aspects of Muggle culture,' Sirius replied smugly.

'What?' Harry and Draco exclaimed in unison. Sirius only chuckled in response.

'Muggles don't have culture,' Draco protested. 'They're just dumb animals.'

'Not to mention violent and unpredictable,' Harry added. 'Why should we want to learn about them?'

'The official reason that you will provide Lucius and Aunt Cassie if ever they find out,' Sirius said pompously, 'is that wizards – even Dark wizards – often have the need to travel undetected amongst Muggles. We cannot keep to ourselves all the time. Most wizards, however, are so incompetent at dealing with Muggles that you can detect them a mile away. Unless you learn how to dress like a Muggle properly, how to act like a Muggle and how to interact with them, it may well thwart your pernicious plots for global domination.'

'We have wands, Uncle Sirius,' Draco said, holding his own up in demonstration. 'Muggles don't. We don't need to slink amongst them in disguise.'

Sirius clicked his tongue disapprovingly. 'Tut, tut, Draco. That was very Gryffindorish thinking. Good Slytherins ought always to be prepared to move about in stealth in order to achieve their insidious ends.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'That's the official reason, you said. What's the real reason?'

Sirius's eyes twinkled mischievously. 'Because it's fun.'

Harry sighed. 'We're not going to get out of this, are we, Dad?'

His father let out a bark-like laugh. 'Not a chance.' He flicked his wand and Summoned a large bag. 'To start with, we need to fix your clothes.' He reached into the bag and handed each boy a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a leather jacket, socks and a pair of trainers.

Harry groaned. He hadn't worn Muggle clothes since the Squibs had rescued him from the Dursleys.

Draco was indignant. 'You want us to wear trousers in public? That's barbaric!'

'Just put them on,' Sirius ordered.

'You aren't wearing them,' Harry observed.

Sirius smirked. 'Nice try. I'm already dressed under my robes.'

The boys pulled off their robes and dressed in the Muggle clothes. Harry had no difficulties, but Draco initially tried to put the jeans on backwards. When they had finished, Sirius inspected them.

'Not bad,' he said approvingly.

'Where do we put our wands?' Draco asked.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Do you really think you'll need them? The French may not care so much about underage magic, but they certainly do uphold the International Statute of Secrecy.'

'But what if we're attacked?' Harry offered hopefully.

'You'll have me with you the whole time, and I will be carrying my wand,' Sirius replied.

'That's not fair,' Draco moaned.

'Draco!' Sirius snapped. 'What's the number one rule of living with Sirius?'

Draco pouted. 'No whinging,' he mumbled.

'Right,' Sirius said sternly. 'And don't either of you forget it.'

He swept off his robes in a flourish, revealing his outfit of jeans, leather jacket, boots and a faded T-shirt adorned with a phoenix. His wand was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He led Harry and Draco down the back stairs and through the garden to a secluded place where he had parked a shiny red sports car.

'Dad, I thought you were training us how to blend in amongst the Muggles,' Harry pointed out.

'No, I said that's what you should tell Lucius and Aunt Cassie we've been up to—if they find out, which I hope they won't,' Sirius corrected. 'The real reason we're going on this outing is to have fun.' He smiled knowingly. 'I assure you, the Diablo is fun.'

The boys climbed into the passenger seat, which Sirius had magically expanded to accommodate them both, and Sirius himself slid behind the steering wheel. He handed Harry and Draco each a pair of sunglasses before slipping on his own, rolling down the windows, starting the engine and peeling out of the Black estate onto the main road. He drove them at breathtaking speed to the nearby Zoo de la Barben, where they spent the rest of the day casually strolling from one exotic animal to another, most of which they had never seen before. Harry, of course, showed a particular affinity for the snakes, but he and Draco both enjoyed the wildcats and the bears, whilst Sirius professed a fondness for the hippopotamuses.

'So, do you boys still think that Muggles have nothing worthwhile?' Sirius asked them over lunch as they munched on sandwiches and crisps.

'I have to admit,' Harry said tentatively, 'the Diablo _was_ fun.'

Draco nodded in agreement. 'Nothing on flying, of course, but not bad at all.'

'And this place is fantastic,' Harry went on. 'I had no idea. Dudley got to go to the zoo sometimes, but I never went.'

Sirius stomped on Harry's foot under the table, and Harry went pale. He had been feeling so relaxed, for a moment he had forgotten that Draco wasn't supposed to know about the Dursleys.

'Who's Dudley?' Draco asked.

'Oh, no one,' Harry said quickly. 'Just a boy I knew when I lived with my mum.'

'Doesn't sound French,' Draco observed.

'He was British too,' Harry invented. 'That's why Mum and I knew his family.'

Fortunately, that seemed to be a sufficient explanation for Draco, and Sirius steered the discussion in another direction. After lunch they resumed strolling through the zoo until late afternoon, when they headed back to the car park and climbed into the Diablo.

'That was brilliant, Uncle Sirius,' Draco said as he fastened his seatbelt.

'Yeah, thanks a bunch, Dad,' Harry jumped in.

Sirius chuckled. 'Oh, we're not done yet, boys. We have more Muggle culture to explore.'

He turned on the car and they zoomed off towards Marseilles, the radio pumping out Muggle music at full blast. When they reached the town, Sirius parked the car and they walked the rest of the way to an excellent restaurant where they had three different sorts of pizza.

'This is amazing, Dad,' Harry gushed over his first slice.

Draco's face bore an expression of perfect bliss. 'I've never had anything like it in my life.'

After dinner Sirius took the boys to a cinema, where they watched an American film that seemed mainly to consist of a series of very impressive explosions. The Muggles who took their tickets protested that the boys were too young to see the film, but Sirius discreetly Confunded them. Harry and Draco were both captivated.

'Muggles are rather violent, aren't they, Uncle Sirius?' Draco whispered half-way through the film.

Sirius shrugged. 'Of course they are, but what else do you expect? They don't have magic, so they have to resort to brute force.'

Draco nodded, and fell silent.

After the film, Sirius drove the boys back to the chateau. They fell asleep in the car, and he had to levitate them into bed. He himself fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, a satisfied grin on his face.


	12. Part I: Chapter 12

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my marvellous readers and reviewers.**** Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 12

Sirius and the boys prepared to return to England at the end of August with a heavy heart. Neither Harry nor Draco could remember ever having had such a marvellous summer, and Sirius had begun to settle comfortably into his new role as Harry's father. None of them looked forward to rejoining the perpetual intrigue that was daily life in the Houses of Black and Malfoy.

Nonetheless, when the first of September came around, all three gathered in the entrance hall with their trunks, bade Arcturus and Melania farewell and Portkeyed back to Windermere Court. Marius, Clytemnestra and Cassiopeia greeted them.

'Welcome home, boys,' Cassiopeia said. 'I am looking forward to our first lessons of the year on Monday. I trust I shall find that you have been diligent in your wandwork over the past month.'

'Yes, Aunt Cassie,' Harry and Draco replied in unison. They had both become quite competent at a number of basic spells, though Harry was still far stronger when he cast in Parseltongue. He was sorely tempted to use only Parseltongue, because it was so much easier, but since Harry hoped to keep his newfound talent from Aunt Cassie's notice, he forced himself to learn the normal way.

'Your mother told me that she wanted you to come home right away, Draco,' Clytemnestra said. 'You may use the fireplace in the parlour. We shall send Mopsy over with your things presently.'

'Thank you, Aunt Clytemnestra,' Draco said, and waved to Harry and Sirius. 'See you tomorrow, Aries, Uncle Sirius.'

'Bye, Draco,' Harry said. Sirius patted the blond boy on the shoulder, and Draco ran off to the parlour.

'As for you two,' Marius said, 'Pollux has been asking for you. The Healers say he's taken a serious turn for the worse. It won't be long now until the end.'

Harry and Sirius changed into their best robes and Flooed over to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher escorted them up to the master bedroom, where Pollux lay motionless in the centre of the large four-poster bed. Irma sat quietly by his side, looking as though she had not slept in days.

'Hello, Sirius dear,' Irma said. 'Hello, Aries. It was good of you to come.' She glanced at her husband's gently sleeping form. 'He was asking for you earlier today, but he drifts in and out. I don't know when he will wake up again.'

'That's all right, Grandmamma,' Sirius replied, his face unusually solemn. 'We'll wait here for awhile. Why don't you rest a bit?'

Irma nodded and rose from her chair. 'Kreacher, prepare the bed in Mistress Ursula's old room. I shall sleep there for the time being. Prepare Master Sirius's old room for him, and Master Regulus's for Aries.'

'Yes, Mistress,' the house elf croaked, and scampered off to do her bidding.

Irma placed her icy hand on Harry's cheek. 'He'll be so pleased to know you're here, Aries,' she said. 'Your great-grandfather may have a strange way of showing it, but he cares for you very much.'

Harry nodded, trying not to cry. He didn't know how to respond. It was strange for a boy whose parents had been murdered when he was one, but Harry had never really experienced death, not that remembered.

Irma dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. 'I was twelve when Pollux and I married,' she said. 'He was thirteen. It's strange. I've spent the better part of six decades devoutly wishing for the bastard to leave me alone. Now, when it seems the old fool's finally preparing to do just that, I find I want nothing more than for him to stay.' She burst into tears. 'Oh Poll!' she cried. 'Whatever shall I do without you?'

Sirius pulled his grandmother into his arms and let her cry on his shoulder. 'It'll be all right, Grandmamma,' he whispered soothingly. 'Aries and I will take care of you. Everything will be fine.'

Irma only cried harder into Sirius's best dress robes. Harry stood there and fidgeted nervously.

* * *

That evening after Harry went to bed in Regulus's old room and Irma returned to her husband's side, Sirius changed into Muggle clothes, slipped out of the house and Apparated to an old Muggle pub he and James had often frequented. It had been a very difficult day. Sirius and Harry had taken it in shifts to sit beside Pollux, but the old man woke infrequently. When he did, he tended to rant about Dumbledore or wax eloquent about the beauties of Grindelwald's ideology. The family had known the end was coming, but they hadn't expected it to come so soon. If anything, Sirius would have guessed that Arcturus would go first. Towards the end of their visit, he had kept calling Harry 'Sirius' and Sirius 'Orion.' He was calling Draco 'Regulus,' which made no sense at all, but the blond boy had borne it in good spirits.

Sirius walked into the crowded pub and ordered a pie and a pint, sitting at the table in the corner where the Marauders had always used to sit. They had all come here the night James's mum died, and James and Sirius had come here when they had heard about Regulus's death. As he sat in the familiar spot and sipped the familiar brew, Sirius found that he could almost imagine his friends around him.

James would have sat across from him, of course, going on about how beautiful Lily was and how lucky he was to finally get her, or repeating incessantly the latest story about Harry's new word. Remus would have sat to Sirius's left, quietly nursing his ale and smiling softly at the appropriate moments. He could keep quiet most of the night, but when he did speak, his words were golden. Peter would have sat to Sirius's right, hanging onto James's every word as he always did. Sirius raised his ale to his invisible comrades.

'Here's to you, mates,' he whispered.

'Well, well, well,' a familiar voice said behind him. 'If it isn't Sirius Black.'

Sirius turned around to see Remus Lupin staring at him coldly. He had been dreading this confrontation ever since he was set free. His old friend looked terrible—far too thin, and with a lot of grey hairs he was too young to have.

'Moony,' Sirius said, his voice choking up. 'It's good to see you.'

Remus's eyes narrowed. 'Don't call me that, Black. Your grandfather may have been able to trick the Wizengamot into letting you go, but _we_ both know what you are.'

'I assure you, Remus, you cannot hate me for what happened more than I hate myself,' Sirius replied soberly.

Remus laughed bitterly. 'Really? So did Azkaban make you feel sorry you handed James and Lily over to Voldemort, and little Harry too? Or are you sorry because you got your master killed?'

'Don't you think I'd give anything for it to have been me who died instead of James?' Sirius shouted. Some of the Muggles turned to look at them, but most minded their own business. That had been one of the reasons the Marauders had always liked this pub in the first place. 'And what makes it worse, Moony, is that I know it's all my fault, and I couldn't do anything about it.'

Remus gave Sirius a funny look. 'I could almost believe you're sincere.' His expression turned hard. 'But you always were a good actor.'

Sirius chuckled. 'Not to you and James. You could always tell when I was lying.'

'Apparently not the one time it mattered.'

'I wasn't lying, Moony,' Sirius said in a hoarse whisper. 'Please, you're the one friend I have left. Let me explain.'

Remus thought a moment. 'I'll give you one chance.'

'Thank you,' Sirius said, sighing with relief.

'I'm not doing it for _you_,' Remus snapped. 'If you ask me it's more than you deserve. But James would have heard you out, even after everything. I'm living at my parents' old house. I assume you remember where it is?'

Sirius nodded.

'Meet me there tomorrow at noon.' Remus said.

Sirius winced. 'I'm sorry, Moony. I can't. I have to go to Sunday dinner at Malfoy Manor.'

'Of course,' Remus scoffed. 'I can't keep you from your dinner date with the Death Eaters.'

'How about later on?' Sirius asked. 'Maybe four o'clock in the afternoon?'

Remus nodded reluctantly. 'Four o'clock sharp.'

'I'll be there,' Sirius promised. Remus just shook his head and walked away.

After Sirius had polished off his pie and drained his ale, he went to Windermere Court to pick up his pyjamas before going back to Grimmauld Place. Harry had been perfectly content to wear some of Sirius's old things for the night, but Sirius had outgrown all his own castoffs, and absolutely refused to wear any of his father's old pyjamas. He stepped into the house to find Marius nursing his firewhisky in the parlour.

'Are you heading back to Grimmauld Place this evening?' he asked.

Sirius nodded. 'I just came by to pick up some pyjamas.'

'How is Pollux?'

Sirius shrugged. 'Not well. He's woken up a couple of times today, but he's never been lucid. Grandmamma said he was asking for Aries this morning.'

'It's good of you to do this,' Marius said. 'I know you and Pollux were never close.'

'He got me out prison, though.' Sirius smiled. 'I suppose I owe him. In any event, I'm mostly doing it for Grandmamma. I didn't expect her to take this so hard.'

Marius smirked. 'Curious, isn't it, how often the ones we hate are the ones we care for most deeply.'

'And vice versa,' Sirius agreed, and told his uncle about his run-in with Remus at the pub.

'Remus Lupin?' Marius furrowed his brow. 'That reminds me. You know he came by here a few years ago?'

'Remus did?' Sirius was surprised. 'Why?'

'He was looking for Harry Potter, as I recall, on Dumbledore's behalf.'

'Harry?' Sirius frowned. 'Did he figure out the truth?'

Marius nodded. 'Just about all of it.'

'Why didn't he go to Dumbledore?'

'Cassie intervened.'

Sirius's eyes went wide. 'What did she do?'

'I don't know,' Marius replied. 'She took him up to her quarters. When he returned he left without another word. She told me that she'd taken care of everything.'

'A Memory Charm?' Sirius suggested.

Marius nodded. 'I think that's most likely. Cassie's always been rather gifted in that area.'

Sirius thanked his uncle for the information before grabbing his pyjamas and Flooing over to Grimmauld Place. On his way up to his old bedroom he stopped by the library and retrieved a thick volume on Memory Charms. Once upstairs he plopped on his bed and flipped through the book, looking for ways to restore a modified or erased memory. There did not seem to be a lot of options, but there was one spell that looked promising, and Sirius did not think it looked particularly difficult.

He set the book on his bedside table, dimmed the lights and drifted off to sleep. Perhaps there was a way he could regain Remus's trust after all.

* * *

That night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dumbledore retired to his private quarters after the Sorting Feast with a steaming cup of hot cocoa and his favourite Fifi LaFolle novel, _Persephone's Passion_. He changed into his flowery nightshirt and fuzzy purple slippers before curling up in his favourite armchair beside the fireplace and opening the well-worn novel to where he had left off. He slipped back into the story effortlessly, as he always did. He had just reached the part where the grief-stricken young heroine was preparing to hurl herself off a weather-beaten cliff when a loud tapping on the window interrupted his reverie. He looked up, startled. An owl stood on the ledge outside in the dark.

Dumbledore opened the window with a flick of his wand, and the owl flew in and landed on the back of his armchair. A letter hung suspended from its left leg. Dumbledore took the letter and opened it.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore_, it began.

_As you may recall, you requested to be notified when the second wand made from your phoenix's feathers was sold. You undoubtedly remember that the first such wand was sold to one Tom Riddle, many years ago. The second wand was sold just under a month ago to Aries Black, the son of the recently released convict, Sirius Black. Young Mstr Black is only ten years old, and I hesitated to make the sale because of the legal restrictions, but Cassiopeia Black was with him, and she insisted that I sell the wand immediately. Having dealt with Miss Black in the past, I am sure you will sympathise with my acquiescence._

_I hope you find this information of use, though I should greatly appreciate it if you would be so kind as not to reveal that I passed this information on to you. Such a revelation would be bad for business, as well as likely arousing the ire of the formidable Miss Black._

_I remain, etc._

_Artemius Ollivander_

Dumbledore sighed and set the letter down on the side table. This bore immediate investigation. It appeared that he would have to wait until another time before returning to dear Persephone's adventures. He sent a Patronus to Severus, summoning the Potions master to his office, and pulled on decent robes before heading down the steps.

Severus Snape walked into the Headmaster's office moments later.

'What is it, Headmaster?' he asked brusquely. 'I was preparing to retire.'

'Thank you for coming so promptly, Severus,' Dumbledore said. 'I assure you that I should not have asked you to come were it not a matter of great importance. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'

'No, thank you,' Severus replied.

'As you wish.' Dumbledore paused. 'Severus, what do you know of Aries Black?'

'The convict's brat?' Severus spat. 'Next to nothing. I have never met him.'

'I should have thought that perhaps you had heard something through your other contacts.'

'I'm a half-blood, Dumbledore. I hardly move in the same social circles as the Blacks and Malfoys,' Severus replied coolly.

'But what of your _other_ contacts with Lucius?'

Severus harrumphed. 'Most men do not discuss their sister's children with their business associates.' He sighed and dipped his head. 'Lucius Malfoy, however, is not most men. He has been known to speak of the boy on occasion.'

Dumbledore leaned forward. 'And?'

'Apparently the boy is very like his father, in looks as well as behaviour. He is spoilt and arrogant, and loves to engage in outrageous pranks. His chief partner in crime seems to be Lucius's son Draco.'

'And his family encourage this sort of activity?' Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

'His family seem to be under the mistaken impression that Aries is a wizard of considerable talent, and so give him a great deal of leeway. Lucius says the boy is nothing out of the ordinary, though he admits that perhaps the boy has a particular gift for the Dark Arts.' Severus laughed humourlessly. 'Old Malfoy, however, is quite smitten with the boy. Apparently he has invited Black to call him "Dad."'

'Sirius is Abraxas's son-in-law,' Dumbledore observed. 'Is that so unusual?'

Severus smirked. 'Abraxas insists that Lucius address him as "Father."'

Dumbledore looked surprised. 'I see.'

'My impression is that Lucius resents the boy's influence in the family quite strongly, but is powerless to oppose his father.'

'I seem to recall Abraxas being a wizard one would be foolish to cross,' Dumbledore said with a smile.

Severus nodded. 'I have met old Malfoy only on a couple of occasions, but he struck me as possessing power and cunning, along with a ruthless ability to get things done.'

'It seems to me unlikely that Abraxas would be won over so easily by the boy without any cause,' Dumbledore mused. 'Has Lucius provided any indication of the reasons behind his father's opinion?'

Severus shook his head. 'No, only an old man's sentimentality. However, he has made it clear that the brat has captured the hearts of the old Blacks as well.'

'Arcturus and Pollux?'

Severus nodded.

Dumbledore frowned. 'There must be something he's not telling you. Neither Arcturus nor Pollux has ever been accused of simple sentimentality.' He leaned forward. 'I want you to keep your ears and eyes open. Inform me of anything you may learn about the boy.'

'Why this sudden interest in Aries Black?' Severus asked.

'I learned today that Aries purchased a wand from Ollivander's a month ago.'

'Your point? It is not all that uncommon for the old pureblood families to ignore the restrictions in that area, and the Ministry has never cared.'

Dumbledore took a deep breath. 'The wand Aries purchased is the brother of Lord Voldemort's.'

'You think this significant?'

'I do not know,' Dumbledore admitted. 'But you said the boy has an aptitude for the Dark Arts, and the family think that he has great potential. Knowing the Black and Malfoy families as we do, it is not difficult to guess what that means.'

Severus shook his head. 'What you ask is not as straightforward as it may seem. What I have just told you I have gleaned from casual conversations over three years. Even Lucius Malfoy has better things to do than complain about his nephew.'

'You will likely be the boy's future Head of House. Mightn't you arrange a meeting with the boy before he comes to school?'

'You're daft,' Severus retorted. 'Do you have any idea what Sirius Black will do to me the moment he hears I'm interested in the boy?'

'Good point,' Dumbledore admitted.

'Perhaps the werewolf would have more luck?' Severus suggested.

Dumbledore sighed. 'Sadly, Mr Lupin has been less helpful since the tragic death of Harry Potter.'

'I sometimes wonder why _I_ still help you after that little fiasco,' Severus mused.

'Because you continue to keep the big picture in mind,' Dumbledore said. 'You realise how important our work is.'

'I do,' Severus admitted, and let out a breath. 'I shall keep an eye out for any news of Aries Black. I do not expect to learn much.'

'Any information you provide might prove vital, Severus,' Dumbledore said. 'In any event, we shall monitor the boy very carefully once he arrives at Hogwarts. It may be, with a little encouragement, that we can turn him away from his family's path.'

'We shall see, Headmaster.'

Severus left Dumbledore's office, and the aged wizard once again ascended the stairway to his private quarters, regretfully postponing _Persephone's Passion _for another night.


	13. Part I: Chapter 13

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my marvellous readers and reviewers.**** Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 13

Sirius and Harry Flooed over to Malfoy Manor the next day promptly at eleven-thirty. Pollux had woken up and spoken to them briefly that morning, though he had called Sirius 'Alphard' and Harry 'Sirius.' Sirius wondered briefly whether it was right for them to leave, with the situation so critical, but Irma urged them to do so.

'If there are any changes, I shall send Kreacher to fetch you at once,' she assured them.

Abraxas greeted his son-in-law and grandson warmly as they arrived.

'Welcome home, Aries,' he said. 'I've heard from Draco about your wonderful time in France. I daresay he was sorry to come back to England!' He clapped Sirius on the back. 'As for you, my boy, we never got to our little rematch. We shall have to play a bit of Quidditch after dinner, I think.'

Sirius bowed slightly. 'As you wish, Dad.'

'It was good of Regina to go off and marry a boy who knows his way around a broomstick,' Abraxas went on. 'I could never get Lucius really interested in the game. He would enjoy a match now and then, but he never even tried out for the team at Hogwarts. He was always messing about with politics. Even when he was a child it was like pulling teeth to tear him away from _The_ _Daily Prophet_.'

'I, on the other hand, have never shown the slightest inclination for politics,' Sirius replied. 'My own father had a difficult time getting me out of the garden.'

'That's the way a boy should be. There's plenty of time for politics later. Did you play for your House team?'

Sirius nodded. 'I did, sir. I was a Beater.'

'Yes, I can see that,' Abraxas replied, looking at him appraisingly. 'You're awfully thin now, but I suspect before you had just the right build for it.'

'My best friend, Aries' godfather, played Chaser,' Sirius said. 'James Potter. He was the real Quidditch star.'

Harry looked up at Sirius and grinned. Sirius winked at him.

'Yes, I remember,' Abraxas said. 'I used to attend school games from time to time when I sat on the Board of Governors. He was quite good. I heard he turned down the Wimbourne Wasps. A rather undignified profession, of course, but a pity all the same. He displayed real talent.'

'Aries!' Draco exclaimed, and walked quickly into the room. 'I didn't know you were here.'

'We only just got here,' Harry replied.

'Mum told me what happened,' Draco said. 'How's Great-Granddad?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not good.'

'We're staying at Grimmauld Place for the time being,' Sirius explained to Abraxas. 'Grandmamma needs our help. She's taking it rather hard.'

Abraxas nodded. 'It's no easy thing, losing a spouse,' he said. 'I remember when Iphigenia died. Nasty bout of spattergroit. Regina was just out of Hogwarts.' His face fell. 'Little could any of us have guessed that Regina would die of the same thing only eight years later.' He patted Harry on the shoulder. 'Your mother was a fine woman, Aries.'

'I know, sir,' Harry replied. 'Thank you.'

'And it can't be easy for you, either,' the old man said to Sirius, 'being stuck in Azkaban all those years and getting out only to learn that your wife was dead.'

'There's been a lot of adjustment,' Sirius said truthfully. 'Aunt Cassie helped a lot at first, and Aries and Draco have made all the difference in the world these past few weeks.'

Abraxas smiled fondly at his grandchildren. 'They're fine boys, both of them. It's hard to believe they'll be off to Hogwarts in only a year.'

Sirius smirked. 'I hope Hogwarts survives the encounter.'

His father-in-law laughed heartily. 'Now, don't tell me you didn't engage in a bit of mischief yourself at school.'

'If he were to tell you such a thing, it would be a monstrous lie,' Lucius said smoothly as he strode into the room. 'As I recall, I had to deduct countless points from him and Potter. Based on what Severus has told me, his behaviour only grew worse after I left.'

'Oh, so you're still in touch with Snape?' Sirius said brightly. 'Figures. How is old Snivelly?'

'Severus Snape is currently Potions master and Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,' Lucius said drily. 'I should say he's done rather well for himself.'

'Snape? Severus Snape?' Abraxas scratched his head. 'The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place it.'

'Nasty fellow,' Sirius said, scrunching up his nose. 'Mortal fear of soap.'

Harry and Draco sniggered. Lucius scowled at them.

'Severus Snape is an excellent potioneer and your future Head of House,' he said to the boys. 'You would do well to show him some respect.'

'Come now, Lucius, they've never met the man,' Abraxas scolded his son. 'How can they show him respect when all they know of him is that he has poor hygiene?' He frowned. 'Who was his father? Surely I knew him.'

'I doubt it,' Sirius said with a mischievous grin. 'I believe he was a Muggle.'

'WHAT?' Abraxas shouted. 'A Muggle? You mean this Snape fellow is a Mudblood?'

'Half-blood, Father,' Lucius said evenly. 'He's a half-blood.'

'As I recall,' Sirius said with his tongue firmly in cheek, 'Cissy once commented that Severus Snape gave the phrase "filthy half-blood" a whole new meaning.'

Draco and Harry doubled over in laughter, Abraxas joined in, and even Lucius struggled to suppress a smile.

When Abraxas had calmed down, he shook his head sadly. 'Since when can a half-blood be Head of Slytherin House? In my day, we had a few half-blood students, but still...Head? It boggles the mind. When my father was at school there was not a single student in Slytherin who could not document pure blood for at least three generations.'

'Is Minerva McGonagall still Head of Gryffindor?' Sirius asked Lucius.

'I believe so,' the blond man replied.

'I always liked her,' Sirius said nostalgically. 'Tough as nails, to be sure, but a fine woman and a skilled witch.'

'I remember Minerva,' Abraxas said. 'We went to school together. I even escorted her to Hogsmeade a few times. I quite agree with your assessment, Sirius, a fine woman from a decent family, though a bit puritanical for my tastes. A Scot, you know. It's the Presbyterian strain.'

A little bell rang, and they moved into the dining room. After a delicious dinner, Abraxas, Sirius, Harry and Draco went out into the garden for their game of Quidditch, which Sirius and Draco won by a single goal. Abraxas and Harry were good sports, however, and willingly agreed to fetch the drinks for the others: butterbeer for the boys, firewhisky for the men. They sat in the garden and sipped from their bottles, enjoying the soft breeze. It was truly a perfect day.

At three-thirty Sirius took his leave.

'Thank you for a wonderful time, Dad,' he told Abraxas. 'I trust it's all right if I leave Aries here until this evening?'

'Why don't you let the boy stay the night?' his father-in-law suggested. 'We'll send Dobby over to Windermere Court for his things. He and Draco can come over to Grimmauld Place tomorrow after their lessons. Draco ought to pay his respects to his great-grandfather.'

Sirius checked with Harry to make sure that arrangement was fine with him, and then thanked Abraxas for his generosity. He said good-bye to the three wizards and Flooed back to Grimmauld Place to check on Pollux. There was no change, so Sirius told Irma where he would be before changing into Muggle clothes and Apparating to Remus's parents' old home. The Squibs and Cassiopeia were visiting Grimmauld Place that evening, so she wouldn't be alone.

The house was on the moors, not in good condition at all, but it was shelter, and Sirius understood what a precious commodity that could be. He walked up to the front door and knocked in the elaborate pattern they had always used on the door of their dormitory. Remus opened the door and let him in. The inside was a good bit shabbier than Sirius remembered, but everything was clean. Remus's trousers and jumper were visibly patched and mended, but they looked like they still kept the cold out.

'You came,' Remus observed, motioning for Sirius to sit down. 'Would you care for some tea?'

'Yes, thank you,' Sirius said, finding a place on the sofa. Remus poured their tea and pointedly sat in a chair on the other side of the table, as far away as possible from where Sirius was sitting. Sirius took a sip of tea. 'How have you been?'

'This isn't a social call,' Remus replied sharply. 'I have invited you here to explain to me the circumstances you so greatly regret which persuaded you to betray your best friend and his family to the Dark wizard who wanted to kill them. So what's the excuse? Imperius?'

Sirius chewed his lower lip. 'I didn't do it.'

Remus raised an eyebrow. 'That's it? You came all this way just to tell me...'

'Shut up, Moony,' Sirius cut him off. 'Let me explain. I was never James and Lily's Secret Keeper.'

'Dumbledore said...,' Remus began, but stopped when Sirius held up a hand.

'Dumbledore didn't know,' Sirius said simply. 'I was originally going to be the Secret Keeper, but I thought that would be too obvious. Surely Voldemort would figure out it was me, and focus all his efforts on making me crack.' Sirius shivered. 'I didn't trust myself not to tell under torture, or perhaps Veritaserum. I suggested that we switch. I would be the decoy, and draw off all Voldemort's attention, but Wormtail would be the real Secret Keeper. We would place him in hiding, and everything would be fine.'

Remus frowned. 'I have to admit. It does sound like the sort of plan you'd come up with. But if that's the case, why didn't you tell me?'

Sirius's face fell. 'I thought you were the traitor. Peter kept pointing out all the times you were missing, all sorts of suspicious little details. Of course, it turned out he was the traitor. I discovered he was missing that night and realised the truth. I arrived at Godric's Hollow too late. It was like a nightmare, Moony. I found James and Lily's bodies. Harry, though, was still alive. Hagrid had him. He said Dumbledore was going to send Harry to live with his aunt and uncle. I argued with him, but he wouldn't listen. So, being me, I did something foolish. I ran after Wormtail.'

'And that's when you killed him?' Remus's voice was hard.

'I didn't kill him,' Sirius said, shaking his head. 'He shouted that I was the traitor, for the Muggles to hear, and then he cut off his own finger and blew up the street. He transformed and vanished, leaving me to take the blame.' He sighed. 'I would have explained all this at the trial, only...'

'You never got a trial,' Remus finished in a low voice.

Sirius jumped up and grabbed Remus by the shoulders. 'Moony, I would never betray Prongs. If I could, I would gladly die in order to bring him back. Surely you must believe that.'

Remus forced Sirius's hands off of him. 'I did believe that. Then it turned out I was wrong. James and Lily believed it too, and it killed them. Harry had to go live with those horrible Muggles, and then he was kidnapped, and no one knows what happened to him. He may well be dead!'

Sirius sat back down. 'He's not dead,' he whispered.

'What?' Remus responded sharply. 'What have you done with him? Where is he?'

'You already know, Moony,' Sirius said. 'Or rather, you did.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm afraid you're the victim of a Memory Charm cast by my Aunt Cassiopeia,' Sirius replied. 'I only found out about it myself after our meeting yesterday. I did some research. I think I can fix the damage, if you'll let me.'

'You want me to let you point a wand at my head?' Remus scoffed. 'Are you mad?'

'Probably,' Sirius shrugged. 'I'd hoped you'd believe me.' He chuckled. 'I don't suppose you have any spare Veritaserum?'

Remus gave a small smile. 'Unfortunately not.'

'Then we're stuck,' Sirius said. 'Unless...' He trailed off.

'What do you have in mind?' Remus asked.

'I think I know someone whom you might find a bit more convincing,' Sirius said. 'He's also been around for much more of Harry's childhood than I have. But if you want to talk with him, we have to go to the house where I'm staying. Will you come?'

Remus took a deep breath and rose to his feet. 'Let's go.'

'You'll really do it?' Sirius was impressed.

'All my friends are dead or as good as,' Remus said bitterly. 'Harry's gone. I don't have any reasons to live anymore. If you're telling the truth, I could have a friend again, and Harry would be back. That's two reasons. The way I see it, I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.'

The two wizards Apparated to Windermere Court, and Sirius let them inside. The house, of course, was empty, and Sirius led Remus directly upstairs to Harry's bedroom. Remus stared at the impressive furniture and large wardrobe.

'Whose room is this?' he asked.

'This is Harry's room,' Sirius replied.

'Why did you bring me here?'

The answer came from a large portrait on the wall.

'Moony!' James exclaimed. 'You came back. It's been awhile.'

Remus turned pale. 'Prongs?'

'The one and only,' James said cheerfully. 'How have you been? You look rather peaky.'

Remus brushed the question aside. 'So Harry's been here all this time?'

'Of course,' James replied. 'Ever since he left the Muggles.'

'I wish I were alive so I could strangle Vernon and Petunia,' Lily said, stepping into the portrait. 'Hello, Remus.'

'Lily,' Remus choked.

'James told me you came by earlier,' she said. 'Why haven't you been back sooner?'

Remus looked at Sirius with confusion in his face.

'I told you, Moony,' Sirius explained. 'Aunt Cassie put you under a Memory Charm.'

Remus furrowed his brow. 'Tell me, Prongs. What happened? How did Harry come here?'

James and Lily related the entire story, with a bit of help from Regina's portrait, who had just come in from a party on the third floor.

'Aries is Harry?' Remus shook his head. 'That can't be! I remember Sirius going to France for the birth. Merlin, Prongs, I was there for the christening! You were godfather.'

James smiled. 'As Padfoot said, Moony, you were put under a Memory Charm.'

Silence hung in the air as Remus processed everything he had learnt. Finally he looked up at James and Lily's portrait.

'Tell me, Prongs,' he said hesitantly. 'Is Harry happy with Sirius? Is Sirius treating him well?'

'Well, I haven't seen Harry much since he met Padfoot,' James replied honestly. 'They've been in France for the past month, and apparently they had no need to take us with them.'

'We were outside most of the time, Prongs,' Sirius said. 'You would have missed all the fun anyway, and most of the portraits in the chateau only speak French.'

James wrinkled his nose. 'Good point. Where was I?'

'I was asking whether Harry was happy with Sirius,' Remus reminded him, amused at the familiar banter between James and Sirius.

'Right. As I said, I haven't seen much of Harry since he met Padfoot, and when I saw him yesterday morning he seemed positively despondent.'

Remus frowned. 'Why was that?'

James smiled. 'He said it was because he had enjoyed his month with Sirius so much that he didn't want it to end.'

Remus sighed in relief. 'Well, it sounds as though Harry's happy with him, then.'

'What can I say?' Sirius shrugged. 'I'm the world's greatest godfather.'

'How can I possibly trust you, Sirius?' Remus said quietly. 'After everything that's happened...if you only had some proof.'

'But we can't prove anything unless we find Wormtail,' Sirius protested. 'And for all we know he was hiding at Hogwarts and McGonagall got peckish.'

'Come on, Moony,' James urged. 'Don't be such an arse.'

'Shut up, Prongs,' Sirius snapped. 'You're not helping.'

'Do you think you can just give him your puppy-dog eyes and he'll believe you?' James shot back. 'He's being stupid. If _I_ am the one you supposedly betrayed and yet I trust you to raise my son – my _son_, Padfoot – then who is he to keep holding a grudge?'

Remus laughed. For a second, he could imagine that nothing had ever happened, that they were all back in Gryffindor Tower. He took a deep breath and turned to Sirius. 'Go ahead.'

'Pardon?' Sirius gave his friend a quizzical look.

'Undo the Memory Charm. Quickly, before I change my mind. I want to remember what I figured out.'

Sirius gave him a broad grin. 'So you believe me after all?'

Remus sighed and nodded slightly. 'I believe you, Padfoot. I don't know why exactly, and I'm not sure what it means yet, but, God help me, I believe you.'


	14. Part I: Chapter 14

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my marvellous readers and reviewers.**** Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 14

On Wednesday, September 5, the following article appeared in _The Daily Prophet_:

P. C. BLACK DEAD AT 78

A scion of one of our oldest and most outrageously provocative pureblood families, Pollux Cygnus Black was in many ways a relic of a happily bygone era, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. The nephew of the infamously tempestuous Sirius Black, Minister for Magic from 1918-1924, 1926-1928, 1930-1934 and 1936-1939, P.C. Black followed proudly in his uncle's footsteps. He caused quite a stir when he left school to marry Irma Crabbe at thirteen (the bride was but twelve), which turned into a full-blown scandal when his daughter Walburga was born only six months later. P.C. Black completed his education at home under private tutelage, and would eventually acquire a well-earned reputation as a scholar of wizarding jurisprudence. His magisterial work, _The Role of the Seven Statutes of Hegesippus in the Formation of the Hermetical Code of 764_, sold some three hundred copies, and is still regarded as the definitive work on the subject.

Upon the death of his father in 1943, P.C. Black took up his father's seat on the Wizengamot and entered into public service. Meanwhile, according to many reputable sources both in Britain and on the Continent, he began funnelling large sums from his newly-acquired fortune to the support of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, for which he was personally awarded the Order of Purity, First Class by Grindelwald himself.

After Grindelwald's defeat, Mr Black dedicated himself to defending the prerogatives of the old pureblood families on the home front. He authored a number of important statutes, including the 1959 Law on Inheritance and the 1966 Law for the Regulation of Domestic Labour, and was the Chairman of the Standing Committee for the Revision of the International Statute of Secrecy from 1957 to 1969. In 1967 he served for six months as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Mr Black seems to have regarded this achievement as the high watermark of his career, though his colleagues recollect that he was a brutal tyrant in the position, leading to his ouster that same year by current Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore. In 1968 he famously instigated the Pureblood Riots in response to the Squib Rights Act, leading to the forced resignation of the Minister for Magic. From 1973 to 1975 he headed the British delegation to the International Confederation of Wizards. In 1976 he retired from public life and moved to Transylvania in order to devote more time to his various recreational activities, citing the heavy burden of British restrictions on Muggle hunting. In 1986 he returned to England in order to spend more time with his great-grandson, Aries Black, whose mother had died earlier that year.

He achieved his final legal triumph only a couple of months ago, when he successfully coerced the Wizengamot into releasing his grandson, Sirius Black, from Azkaban prison on a technicality. Sirius Black is, of course, best known for betraying James, Lily and Harry Potter to the Dark wizard You-Know-Who, and for the murder of the late Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles, proving once again that the apple does not roll far from the tree.

P.C. Black is survived by Irma Crabbe Black, his wife of sixty-five years, his sister Cassiopeia, his brother Marius, his grandson Sirius, his granddaughters Bellatrix Lestrange, Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy, his great-grandsons Aries Black and Draco Malfoy and his great-granddaughter Nymphadora Tonks. He is predeceased by his sister Dorea Potter, his daughter Walburga Black, his sons Alphard and Cygnus and his grandson Regulus.

Due to his status as a former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Mr Black's body will lie in state at the Ministry on Thursday, September 6 and Friday, September 7. Funeral services will be held in London at the parish church of St Wulfstan-within-the-Walls on Saturday, September 8 at 11 o'clock in the morning.

* * *

The week Pollux died flew by in a dizzying blur for Harry. Monday started ordinarily enough. He and Draco went to their lessons with Aunt Cassie at Windermere Court before heading over to Grimmauld Place, where they found Sirius and Narcissa already waiting for them. Pollux was actually fairly lucid when they arrived, and conversed happily with his great-grandsons about Quidditch for half-an-hour before he slipped back into unconsciousness. The boys sat there with their great-grandmother for another forty-three minutes before Pollux died.

It was sudden. He was breathing fairly normally up until the last minute, then there was a strange gasping sound. Moments later, Pollux gave up the ghost. For one horrible minute it felt as though the world had ended, and then all hell broke loose. Irma was reduced to hysterics and had to be escorted by Narcissa to her boudoir in order to recover. Sirius took charge, summoned Kreacher and began issuing orders. The coroner arrived after an hour, and it seemed to Harry and Draco as though his arrival inaugurated an unending stream of visitors and paperwork. The boys wanted to help, but had no idea what was going on or what to do. Eventually Sirius kindly but firmly asked them to stay out of the way, and the boys obliged him.

That evening Clytemnestra took them to Windermere Court, where she kept both boys for the rest of the week, since Sirius was preoccupied with all the details of managing the funeral and Irma refused to allow Narcissa to leave her side. She baked them pies and read them books aloud, anything to keep the boys distracted. There were no lessons. Except for Clytemnestra, all the adults seemed constantly preoccupied with funeral preparations and legal details, letters and wills. No one expressly forbade the boys to play, but at the same time neither boy felt much like doing anything in particular. They spent most of the week reading, playing music together (Harry on the piano and Draco on the violin), practising spells or playing chess.

On Friday evening the boys dressed in very hot dress robes made of black velvet in order to accompany the family to the closing of the casket at the Ministry. There were a number of boring speeches, of course. The Minister for Magic spoke at length about Pollux's many contributions to the wizarding world, followed by a load of wheezing waffle from Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry saw for the very first time. He had heard from his great-grandfather on many occasions about the long-standing enmity between the two wizards, but Dumbledore seemed perfectly happy to stand there and repeat half-hearted platitudes as though he had actually cared about Harry's Great-Granddad. It made Harry sick, and he had to step out in the middle of Dumbledore's speech. He couldn't explain exactly what it was about Dumbledore's behaviour that made him so angry, especially when he knew that the Minister's speech was equally insincere. All Harry knew was that Dumbledore was standing up there and lying to the world again, just as he had when he had told everyone that Harry was dead.

Eventually Harry composed himself and returned to the hall, where Sirius was thanking everyone on behalf of the family, since Arcturus was too ill to attend. Having mostly seen Sirius's playful, fun-loving side, Harry was surprised to see how easily Sirius had stepped into the role for which he had been raised. To his credit, Sirius did not repeat a single platitude and did not rehearse any of Pollux's notable achievements. Nor did he lie. Instead, Sirius spoke about Pollux's care for his family and the great affection he had shown his two great-grandsons, as well as briefly acknowledging his own personal debt to his grandfather. It was honest and quite dignified, and Harry was very proud of his dad.

After the short service, Harry and Draco had to wait around with the rest of the family and accept condolences. Clytemnestra had carefully prepared them for this arduous task, but both boys found it wearying. They had just sat down for a moment on a small sofa in the reception area when the Minister for Magic came over to greet them. Harry and Draco jumped to attention.

'Hello, boys,' the Minister said. 'Please allow me to express my deepest condolences on the death of your great-grandfather. Mr Black was a fine man.'

'Thank you, Minister,' the boys mumbled.

'Now, what are your names, again?' the Minister asked in a kindly voice.

'I'm Aries Black,' Harry said. 'My father is Sirius Black and my mother was the former Regina Malfoy.'

'I'm Draco Malfoy,' Draco piped up. 'My father is Lucius Malfoy and my mother is the former Narcissa Black.'

'Ah, yes, I can see the family resemblance,' the Minister said. 'You look very like your respective fathers.'

'Thank you, Minister.'

Albus Dumbledore passed by, and the Minister caught his attention.

'Over here, Dumbledore,' he said. 'I want you to meet Black's great-grandchildren. These are Aries Black and Draco Malfoy.'

'How do you do?' the old man said, looking at both boys over his spectacles. 'Please accept my sincerest condolences on the loss of your great-grandfather.'

'Thank you, sir,' Draco said, but Harry glared at the old man silently. This was the man who had sent Sirius to prison and tried to keep him there. This was the man who had sent Harry to live with the Dursleys and told the whole world Harry was dead when he had finally been rescued. This was the man whom his great-grandfather had hated until his dying day, but who had still had the arrogant presumption to stand up in front of all those people and pretend that everything was right between them.

'Pollux and I knew each other for many years,' Dumbledore said.

'We've heard,' Harry replied in a cold voice. Draco gave him a funny look.

The Minister chuckled nervously. 'So, when will you boys be starting Hogwarts?'

'Next year, Minister,' Draco replied. Harry continued to glare at the aged Headmaster.

'Ah,' Dumbledore said. 'Then we shall all be seeing each other again very soon.'

'If we must,' Harry said brusquely. Dumbledore gave him an appraising look before taking his leave of the boys. The Minister followed shortly thereafter. Once they had gone, Draco dragged Harry out into the corridor.

'What was that about?' he demanded.

'I don't know what you mean,' Harry replied innocently.

'Don't lie to me, Aries,' Draco snapped. 'I know you too well. What were you playing at with Dumbledore?'

'I can't stand him,' Harry muttered. 'He ruins everything. He ruined Dad's life. He ruined Great-Granddad's life. And he dares to come up to us as though everything's just fine and act like he's Great-Granddad's old friend.'

'It's a funeral. What's he supposed to do? Tell everyone how much he hated Great-Granddad?'

'He doesn't have to lie,' Harry protested. 'Dad didn't say a single untrue thing. I'd rather Dumbledore had stayed home than come here and subjected us to all that rubbish.'

'I understand, Aries,' Draco said. 'Really, I do. I don't like the old Muggle-lover either. But we have to show him some respect. We're going to Hogwarts _next year_.'

'Maybe we could persuade my dad and your mum to go along with Uncle Lucius's idea of shipping us off to Durmstrang,' Harry suggested hopefully.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Like that's ever going to happen. Face it, Aries. We're going to spend the next seven years at Dumbledore's school.'

Harry swore violently in Parseltongue. Draco took two steps backward.

'Don't use magic here,' he said hastily. 'We're in the Ministry, for Merlin's sake.'

Harry smirked. 'I wasn't using magic.'

'What were you saying?' Draco demanded.

'I'd tell you, but I'm afraid your mum would Scourgify your ears.'

Draco turned slightly pink. 'Oh, right.' He paused. 'At least try to be civil to Dumbledore, for both our sakes.'

'I was perfectly civil,' Harry said primly. 'I held my tongue and didn't breathe a word of what I really think about him.'

'You didn't have to say anything,' Draco muttered. 'I think your glare alone lowered the temperature in the room by ten degrees.'

'Fahrenheit or centigrade?'

'Shut up, Aries.' The blond boy looked his cousin directly in the eyes. 'Is it safe for us to go back in, or do I need to tell Aunt Clytemnestra I have a stomach-ache and get her to take us home?'

Harry sighed. 'I'll behave.'

'You'd better, because if you make a scene at Great-Granddad's funeral I'm the one who's going to catch it. You could get away with murder.'

Harry thought of his great-grandmother, still barely holding herself together, and of Sirius, who had put so much work into organising all of this. He hadn't thought about it, but he really could have turned it all into a horrid mess. His face fell.

'I'm sorry, Draco,' he said. 'I didn't mean to make a scene.'

His cousin smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. 'You can't help it, Aries. It's your Gryffindor side. It makes you do stupid things.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Are you accusing Slytherin's True Heir of Gryffindorish qualities?'

'You're no more the Heir of Slytherin than I am Morgan Le Fay,' Draco scoffed.

Harry let out a long, guttural hiss. Draco rolled his eyes.

'Come on, you idiot,' he said. 'Back inside.'

Harry bowed elegantly. 'After you, Madam Le Fay.' Draco swatted the back of his head, and they walked through the double doors into the large hall.

* * *

The next morning was grey and dreary, and a light drizzle fell from the sky. Harry stood beside Sirius in the churchyard. The rest of the family huddled around the open grave, wrapped tightly in thick cloaks and carrying large umbrellas. Pollux's coffin was lowered into the ground, and the vicar droned on.

'...we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope...'

_Hope?_ Harry thought bitterly. _What hope? Great-Granddad's dead. He's gone, and he's not coming back._

Harry had never thought about death much. He knew James, Lily and Regina were dead, but he had only ever known any of them through their portraits, and somehow it had never really clicked that dead people had once been alive, had once been real, flesh-and-blood people with families and friends and hopes and dreams. The thought of Pollux as a portrait, stuck forever in two dimensions, repulsed him. Never before had a portrait seemed so fake, like the barest reflection of someone who had been real, someone who had been lost forever.

The mourners all filed by, dropping handfuls of dirt on top of the coffin.

'Good-bye, Great-Granddad,' Harry whispered as he dropped his own clod of soil. It made a loud noise against the coffin. He clutched tightly onto Sirius's hand as they left the churchyard and walked slowly back to Grimmauld Place. Draco and Abraxas came up behind them and walked silently on Harry's other side. The Muggles zoomed by in their cars, horns blaring and radios blasting, an unwelcome intrusion on the family grief. At least the weather seemed to sympathise. Even the sky was weeping today.

They reached the townhouse and went inside. Kreacher had prepared mountains of food, ready for any visitors who might come by to pay their respects to the family. Harry didn't feel up to accepting condolences today.

'Dad?' he breathed hoarsely. Sirius looked down at him with compassion in his grey eyes.

'What is it, son?'

'I'm really tired. Can I go home?' Harry asked.

'Let me take Aries and Draco home with me, Sirius,' Abraxas suggested. 'You'll be busy all day anyway, and the boys need a chance to rest.'

Sirius nodded. 'Thanks, Dad.' He patted Harry on the shoulder. 'I'll be by to pick you up this evening.'

Harry nodded and followed his grandfather and cousin to the fireplace.

* * *

Late that night, exhausted and bleary-eyed, Sirius Flooed to Malfoy Manor. He found Harry lying on the sofa, curled up in a small ball next to Abraxas, who was sitting with his legs crossed and flipping through the latest issue of _Transfiguration Today_. Abraxas looked up as Sirius entered the room.

'Is everyone gone?' he asked.

Sirius nodded. 'Finally. Grandmamma's gone to bed and Kreacher's handling the cleanup. How's Aries?'

'The poor boy's taking Pollux's death rather hard,' Abraxas said. 'Much harder than Draco is.'

'Well, Aries had to deal with his mum's death very young,' Sirius said thoughtfully. 'I suspect it bothers him more deeply to lose those he loves.'

Abraxas smiled down at his grandson's sleeping form. 'He didn't want to leave my side until you came to collect him. He insisted he'd stay up.'

Sirius chuckled. 'Ten-year-old boys do have a tendency to overestimate their own abilities in that regard. Thank you for humouring him.'

'Grandfathers live to spoil their grandsons,' Abraxas replied. He paused. 'Would you forgive an old man for dispensing a bit of fatherly advice?'

'Absolutely,' Sirius said with a smile. 'I need all the help I can get.'

'You've stepped admirably into your role as future Head of the House of Black this week,' his father-in-law said. 'Everything has gone splendidly. Pollux would have been proud, and I'm sure Arcturus will be too, once he hears about it.'

'But?'

Abraxas took a deep breath. 'You've rather left Aries to the sidelines. He and Draco have been by themselves all week.'

'Aunt Clytemnestra was taking care of them,' Sirius pointed out.

'Indeed she was, and no doubt doing an admirable job,' Abraxas said quickly. 'I understand the necessity for it under these circumstances, and the boys do as well. But you're going to have greater and greater responsibilities as time goes on, Sirius, more and more excuses to pull you away from your son. They will all seem incredibly important at the time. Don't let abandoning your son in order to fulfil other duties become automatic, as it has with Lucius and Narcissa.'

'I care about Aries more than anything else in the world,' Sirius protested.

'Lucius and Narcissa care for Draco,' Abraxas replied. 'Perhaps more than he'll ever know. _That's_ precisely the problem.' He sighed. 'Trust me on this, Sirius. I have done many grand and important things in my lifetime, and now, in my old age, I find that I would trade them all to have spent more time with my son.' He smiled wistfully. 'Aries is going to Hogwarts next year. You've already missed out on nine years of his life. If you're not careful you'll wake up one day and find out that you've lined up everything perfectly for an heir you don't even really know.'

Sirius nodded. 'Thanks, Dad. I'll bear that in mind.'

'Don't get me wrong, Sirius. I think you're a wonderful father. Aries adores you.' He paused. 'Only I want things to stay that way.'

'I respect that. Thank you.' Sirius looked down at Harry. 'Now, if I'm going to be a wonderful father tonight, I should get Aries to bed.'

'Don't wake him,' Abraxas said. 'I had Dobby prepare Aries' usual room for you. You can stay here tonight.'

Abraxas summoned the house elf, and Sirius followed him up the ornate staircase to the guest room, levitating Harry all the way. He laid Harry gently in the large bed and crawled into the smaller second bed Dobby had set up. He had just laid his head on the pillow when Harry stirred.

'Dad?' Harry mumbled. 'Is that you?'

'It's me,' Sirius whispered back.

'I thought you weren't going to come.'

'I promised,' Sirius reminded him.

Harry lay there quietly for a minute, and Sirius thought he had fallen back asleep.

'You're going to die one day, aren't you, Dad?' he said eventually. 'Just like my parents.'

Sirius felt his eyes grow moist. 'Yes, Harry,' he said hoarsely. 'I am. Everyone dies, you know. But I shan't die for a very long time yet.'

'You don't know that for sure,' Harry said with resignation. 'My parents were young when they died.'

Sirius sighed. 'But that was during a war. Voldemort's gone now.'

'There could be another war,' Harry pointed out. 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was hardly the first Dark Lord, and he probably won't be the last. Or you could die in an accident. What if you crash the Diablo? What if there's a fire?'

Sirius dragged himself out of his bed and crawled next to Harry. He put an arm around the boy's shoulders.

'I suppose you're right,' Sirius said. 'You never know. I could die tomorrow.'

'So could I, for that matter,' Harry replied. Sirius shuddered, not allowing himself even to consider the possibility. 'Or Draco. Or Granddad. Or the Squibs.'

'Everyone dies eventually,' Sirius said. 'All you can do is live each moment for all it's worth.' He paused. 'And you know, I don't think the ones we love ever really leave us.'

'So you think there's a chance people really do live on after they die?'

Sirius smiled at his godson, his _son_. 'We live in an amazing world, Harry. Who knows what wonders await us beyond the grave?'

Harry hugged Sirius tightly. 'I don't want to lose you.'

Tears began streaming down Sirius's face. 'I don't want to lose you either, Harry.'

Father and son held each other close, neither wanting to let go, and slowly drifted off to sleep.


	15. Part I: Chapter 15

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: My thanks to all the readers and reviewers! No****w for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 15

The Monday after the funeral, Druella Black left Malfoy Manor and moved permanently into Grimmauld Place in order to help her mother-in-law, much to the relief of Sirius, who was more than happy finally to move back to Windermere Court. Harry was simply glad to have things return more or less to their proper order.

On the Wednesday after the funeral, Harry and Draco resumed their lessons. Cassiopeia launched the boys on an intensive preparatory program, including the full range of subjects they would be studying in their first year at Hogwarts.

'By the time you start school, I expect you to have your first-year course books memorised,' she informed them in a tone that brooked no opposition. 'You are scions of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It simply will not do for either of you to be shown up by wizards of lesser lineage.'

Both boys steadily improved with their wandwork, though Draco continued to have a slight edge over Harry when casting normally. Harry found this very frustrating, especially since every spell he practised would come easily if only he used Parseltongue. At first he was tempted to spend all his time outside of lessons practising with Parseltongue, since it was so much easier, but it only succeeded in making it even harder for him to perform spells normally in class. Since Harry still did not wish to alert Cassiopeia to his newfound talent, he decided to bring up his problem with Sirius.

'That's very strange,' Sirius said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 'I don't see why using Parseltongue for spells should have a deleterious effect on your other magic.'

'Maybe I should just use Parseltongue all the time, and not worry about the other,' Harry suggested.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'And when other people find out?'

'Let them deal with it,' Harry replied casually.

Sirius shook his head. 'I don't like it. I think you should avoid using Parseltongue for the time being. Build up your strength with your normal magic first.'

'But shouldn't I practise the Parseltongue too?' Harry protested.

'It seems to come to you naturally enough without practice,' Sirius pointed out. 'What are the most advanced spells you can do with Parseltongue?'

'I've got through all the third-year spells without a problem.'

'What can you do normally?'

Harry's shoulders fell. 'I'm struggling to keep up with Draco.'

'Focus on your normal work,' Sirius said, ruffling his son's hair. 'Once you catch up a bit, then maybe you can bring out the Parseltongue again.'

Harry did not like depriving himself of his unique ability, but Sirius's advice made good sense, and Harry went along with it. In time, he caught up with Draco, though his performance, much to Cassiopeia's frustration, never surpassed what one would expect from a young wizard of average abilities. The only exception seemed to be during their weekly sessions of special magic, where Harry did seem to have a special gift. This mollified Cassiopeia somewhat, though it also confused her.

'Magnificent, Aries,' she said one Friday, after Harry had managed the Blood-boiling Curse on his first try. 'Why is it that you manage these spells with such ease, but never display anything other than determined mediocrity in your other work?'

'I don't know, Aunt Cassie,' Harry said quietly. Draco gave him a worried look, but said nothing.

* * *

Whilst the boys endured their lessons with Cassiopeia every morning, Sirius took advantage of the opportunity to visit Remus. The werewolf was unemployed at the time, and so he was more than happy to spend his mornings talking with his old friend over a couple of bottles of butterbeer.

'How are you holding up, Padfoot?' Remus asked him one day.

Sirius shrugged. 'Well enough. I'm mostly exhausted.'

Remus nodded. 'I'm not surprised, what with all the work you've been doing.' He smiled wryly. 'Who would have guessed when you were sixteen that you'd happily step into the role of Black paterfamilias?'

Sirius grinned. 'Not yet, Moony. Grandfather's still breathing, last time I checked.'

'Acting paterfamilias, then.' Remus furrowed his brow. 'How's that bit going? It can't be pleasant for you, being stuck back with your family.'

'Well, staying with the family was one of Aunt Cassie's conditions for letting me take charge of Harry,' Sirius explained. 'I knew what I was in for. But it's actually not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I think we've all of us mellowed a bit.' He chuckled. 'Though you might want to ask me again in a few months. I haven't been back in England that long.'

'It probably helps that some of your more unpleasant relations are gone,' Remus pointed out.

'That's true enough. I'd probably go barmy if I had to live with my mum again, or if I had to play nice with Bella. I nearly went mad just staying at Grimmauld Place with Grandmamma.' He paused reflectively. 'There's one other thing.'

'What's that?'

'Before, when I ran away, I didn't have anything in common with my family,' Sirius said. 'Now we all have one thing in common.'

Remus understood. 'Harry.'

'Exactly. I didn't think it possible, but they mostly seem genuinely to care for Harry.' Sirius chuckled. 'Even Aunt Cassie, in her own perverse way.'

Remus grimaced. 'I don't think she's capable of caring for anyone.'

'You're just upset because you were on the receiving end of her interrogation techniques.'

'She used the Cruciatus Curse on me!' Remus exclaimed.

Sirius shrugged. 'To be fair, Moony, at the time she thought you and Dumbledore were plotting to steal Harry and send him back to live with those filthy Muggles.'

'You've been spending too much time with your family, Padfoot,' Remus observed. 'You're picking up their expressions.'

'Can you think of a more apt description of the Dursleys?' Sirius demanded. 'You know as well as anyone how terribly they treated Harry.'

Remus conceded the point. Sirius changed the subject.

'I wish you'd let me give you some gold,' Sirius said with a pout. 'This place could use some repairs, and with Granddad gone I am now fabulously wealthy.'

'As it just so happens, Padfoot,' Remus replied, 'I've inherited something of a fortune myself.'

That caught Sirius off guard. 'Really?'

'Apparently James and Lily wanted me to inherit all their gold if anything happened to Harry.'

Sirius nodded. 'That makes sense. So why haven't you done anything with it?'

'It doesn't really belong to me,' Remus said. 'It belongs to Harry.'

Sirius snorted. 'Harry has more than enough gold coming to him as it is.'

'You might have other children, you know.'

Sirius smiled wistfully. 'Unfortunately, Moony, as embarrassing as it is for me for an old ladies' man like me to admit it, Azkaban has made that rather...unlikely.'

Remus turned crimson. 'I see.'

'Even if I did, Harry's going to be quite comfortable off,' Sirius pointed out. 'He's only getting everything from Uncle Alphard, Granddad and Grandfather through me, of course, but Aunt Cassie has no children, so she's decided to leave everything directly to Harry. Uncle Marius has told me he's planning on doing the same thing-his only son died years ago. At this rate, Harry is on track to become one of the wealthiest wizards in Great Britain. So you can use Harry's gold guilt-free.'

'It's not right,' Remus said quietly. 'That gold should go to Harry, not to me. I've managed until now, and I suspect I'll keep on managing perfectly well.'

Sirius sighed. 'If you say so, Moony.' He paused. 'There's something else we need to talk about, by the way.'

'What's that?'

'I'm concerned about Dumbledore,' Sirius replied. 'I was watching him at the Ministry, and he seemed to be looking at Harry far more often that I should like.'

'Do you think he suspects the truth?' Remus asked.

'I hope not.'

'Why don't we just tell him?' Remus suggested. 'We can tell him what happened with you and Peter, and show him how happy Harry is. Maybe he'd go along with everything.'

Sirius snorted. 'I'm sorry, Moony, but I lost all faith in Dumbledore's wisdom when I learned how hard he fought to keep me in Azkaban.'

'To be fair, he thought you were guilty.'

'He could have spoken with me first,' Sirius growled. 'From what Lucius has told me, Dumbledore's given Snivelly far more of a chance than he ever gave me. Besides, look at what he did to Harry!'

Remus sighed. 'I can't say I'm all that happy with Dumbledore, either, at the moment.' He paused. 'So why do you think he was watching Harry?'

'The truth of the matter is that I have no clue what he's up to, and I don't like it,' Sirius replied. 'I want to do something to remedy that.'

'What do you have in mind?'

Sirius gave Remus a mischievous grin. 'Ever fancy becoming a secret agent, Moony?'

* * *

One afternoon, a few weeks after the funeral, Sirius escorted Harry and Draco to Malfoy Manor after lessons, where they found Narcissa and Clytemnestra waiting for them in the ballroom.

'What's this about, Mum?' Draco asked.

'Now that you boys are ten years old, you will be permitted to attend the Ministry Christmas Ball this year,' Narcissa explained. 'There will be many lovely girls your own age present, and I expect both of you to acquit yourselves as befits young wizards of your station.'

Harry and Draco looked at each other in panic. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius cut him off with a smile.

'When Cissy says "permitted",' he clarified, 'naturally she means "required".'

'But we don't know how to dance!' Harry protested.

'That is why you and Draco will be taking dancing lessons every day until the ball,' Narcissa replied. 'We shall begin with the waltz.'

'Cissy and I shall demonstrate first, so you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to look,' Sirius added.

He flicked his wand and music began to play. He bowed to Narcissa and she made a curtsy in return. Then they began to dance. Harry had never seen anything quite like it. His dad and aunt twirled effortlessly around the dance floor, spinning and dipping gracefully. They moved together in perfect balance, not one foot out of place. It was mesmerising. Harry was certain he would never be able to do anything like that, and, judging from the gobsmacked expression on his cousin's face, Draco felt exactly the same way. The music ended and Sirius and Narcissa stopped. Harry, Draco and Clytemnestra all applauded.

'Of course, we don't expect you to be able to do that just yet,' Sirius said. 'Cissy and I have been dancing together since we were children.'

He paired Harry with Narcissa and Draco with Clytemnestra, and then began giving the boys pointers. He drilled them relentlessly, and by the end of the lesson the boys were exhausted.

'I can't believe you let Aunt Narcissa talk you into this,' Harry complained to Sirius when they got home. 'It's torture.'

Sirius smirked. 'Actually, it was my idea.'

'Yours?' Harry was indignant.

'But of course,' his dad replied. 'I was shocked when I learned that you and Draco hadn't started dancing lessons before now. I began when I was five.'

Harry pouted. 'I don't see why we have to do them at all.'

'Watch the whinging,' Sirius warned. 'Besides, how do you ever expect to win all the girls if you can't even dance? Trust me, one day you'll thank me for making you do this.'

Harry only scowled darkly. 'My feet hurt.'

Sirius laughed. 'You enjoy playing the piano, don't you?'

'It's all right,' Harry replied. Sirius gave him a doubtful look. The boy groaned. 'Fine. I enjoy it very much.'

'Did you like practising at first?'

Harry knew where Sirius was going with this, but he knew better than to argue. 'No.'

'Were you angry at Marius and Clytemnestra for making you take the lessons?'

'Not really,' Harry said cheekily. 'I was still so grateful to them for rescuing me from the Muggles that I willingly submitted to all kinds of torture.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'And now that you're an exasperating, over-indulged prat, would you acquiesce so easily?'

Harry smirked. 'Probably not.'

'Are you nonetheless happy, or even – dare I say it? – grateful, that you were forced to take those awful piano lessons?'

'Yes,' Harry admitted. 'I see your point.' He grinned. 'But I'm still allowed to dislike the dancing lessons in the meantime, aren't I?'

Sirius tousled the boy's hair. 'So long as you remember to watch the whinging.'

* * *

In early November, Lucius and Narcissa went to Spain for a week, and Draco came to stay at Windermere Court whilst they were gone. One evening when the boys were playing chess in the parlour, Sirius burst inside and shut the door. He was wearing his Muggle outfit and a shifty expression on his face.

'Quick!' he urged, thrusting a bag full of Muggle clothes into the boys' hands. 'Everyone's upstairs. It's now or never.'

The boys grinned at each other and promptly changed into the jeans, T-shirts and jackets. Sirius opened the door of the parlour. No one was there but the house elf, who was whistling merrily as she dusted.

'Mopsy!' Sirius hissed. 'Is the coast clear?'

'Yes, Master Sirius,' Mopsy replied in a whisper. 'Master's in his study, Mistress is in her boudoir and Miss Cassie is in her rooms.'

Sirius nodded. 'I'm going out with the boys. What will you tell anyone if they ask where we are?'

'Mopsy is saying that Master Sirius is taking Master Aries and Master Draco on an educational outing,' the house elf recited proudly.

Sirius smiled at her fondly. 'You're a good elf, Mopsy.'

'Thank you, Master Sirius,' Mopsy said, bowing deeply. Sirius opened the door of the parlour wide, and the boys came out into the entrance hall. They froze when they heard familiar footsteps on the stairs.

'You'd best be leaving now, Master Sirius,' Mopsy said quickly. 'Don't worry. Mopsy is holding Miss Cassie off.' The elf darted up the stairs and Sirius led the boys out of the house. Parked in front of number seventeen, Windermere Court was a sleek black coupe.

'Where's the Diablo?' Draco asked.

'In France, of course,' Sirius replied. 'You didn't honestly expect me to drag that thing all the way back here, did you? This is a V8 Vantage. Don't worry, it's fun too.' He opened the door and practically shoved the boys into the back seat before himself sliding into the front passenger seat. A wizard Harry and Draco did not know sat behind the steering wheel.

'Boys, I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin,' Sirius said as the car pulled into the traffic. 'He's an old friend of mine and James's from school.'

'Remus Lupin?' Harry repeated. The name sounded familiar. Then it clicked. 'You must be Moony!'

'That's right,' Remus said. 'And you must be Aries and Draco. I've heard a lot about you two.'

Draco sniggered. 'Not nearly so much as we've heard about you. James Potter's portrait used to tell us stories about you and Uncle Sirius all the time.'

'Is it true that you Spellotaped Filch's cat to the chandelier in the Slytherin common room during third year?' Harry asked eagerly.

Remus chuckled. 'I'm afraid so.'

'What about the Giant Squid incident in sixth year?' Draco asked.

Remus winced. 'I may need to have a talk with James about which stories he tells you.'

'Actually, Dad told us that one,' Harry said wryly. Remus grimaced and Sirius let out a loud bark-like laugh.

'Of course he did,' Remus said. 'You'd better watch it, Padfoot, if you're not careful with your stories, these two scoundrels may wind up burning down the castle before they finish their first year.'

'There's always Durmstrang,' Harry said casually. Draco punched his shoulder.

'Shut up about that, Aries,' he growled. 'They're not sending us to Durmstrang.'

Harry grinned. 'Beauxbâtons, alors. Nous déjà parlons français.'

'Aries,' Sirius said sharply. 'Nous l'avons discuté mille fois. La décision est faite. Quel est le quatrième règle pour la vie avec Sirius?'

Harry sighed. 'Sirius locutus est, causa finita est.'

'Ne l'oublie jamais, mon grand.'

Draco decided it was time to change the subject. 'So, Mr Lupin, where are we going?'

'I'm not sure, exactly,' Remus replied. 'I'm just following Sirius's directions.'

'You'll see when we get there,' Sirius said. 'I promise, you won't be disappointed.'

Ten minutes later they pulled into a car park and climbed out. Sirius led the four wizards to a small Turkish restaurant.

'This place has the best kebabs west of Istanbul,' he proclaimed eagerly.

'Kebabs?' Harry asked. 'What are they?'

'Meat on a stick,' Remus explained.

'Moony!' Sirius scolded. 'Kebabs are one of the most sublime achievements of the human race.'

'Better than pizza?' Draco was in awe.

Sirius paused reflectively. 'That's a difficult question. I don't know whether there truly is anything better than pizza. But kebabs are certainly on the same level.'

The boys' eyes went wide. Remus's eyes rolled.

They stepped into the restaurant and found themselves at the end of a long line.

'How long are we going to have to wait?' Remus complained.

'Watch the whinging!' Harry and Draco responded in unison. Remus chuckled.

'I'd forgot all about the rules! I see you've got them trained, Padfoot,' he said fondly, but Sirius was not paying them any attention. Instead he was waving at a man who was standing near the kitchen. The man jumped when he saw Sirius and hurried up to the front.

'Good evening, Mr Black,' the man said eagerly. 'It is very good to see you again. How have you been?'

'Very well, thank you, Mehmet,' Sirius replied. 'Allow me to introduce my son Aries, my nephew Draco and my good friend Mr Lupin.'

'A pleasure to meet you all,' Mehmet said graciously.

'Mehmet Tosun is the owner of this restaurant,' Sirius explained to Remus and the boys. He turned back to Mehmet. 'I was telling them you have the best kebabs west of Istanbul. It seems a lot of other people had the same idea.' He gave the owner a winning smile. 'Is it a long wait?'

'For you, Mr Black, there is no wait,' Mehmet replied, and motioned for them to follow him.

'Hold on!' protested a very large Muggle with a bushy moustache who was standing alongside a thin woman with a very long neck. It took a moment, but Harry paled as he recognised Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He heard Remus gasp.

'May I help you, sir?' Mehmet asked Uncle Vernon politely.

'My wife and I have been waiting here for twenty minutes,' Uncle Vernon said. 'If anyone should get to go in it's us.'

'Mr Black has a reservation,' Mehmet explained.

'We called earlier, and you said you didn't accept reservations!' Aunt Petunia complained shrilly.

'It is a standing reservation, madam.' Mehmet turned his back on the Dursleys and ushered the four wizards to a somewhat private table near the back. Remus whispered something in Sirius's ear. The Animagus's eyes shone with a feral glint.

'If you'll excuse me for a moment,' he said to his companions once they were seated. 'I need to use the loo.'

He walked just out of their sight, and a few moments later Harry heard a familiar shriek.

'Who let that monstrous thing in here?' Aunt Petunia shouted. 'Do something, Vernon!'

Harry jumped up and headed back towards the front in order to see what was going on. He was just in time to see an enormous and very familiar black dog relieve himself into Aunt Petunia's new handbag before Mehmet came out with a broom and chased the dog away. Harry sauntered back to the table with a wide grin on his face.

'What happened?' Draco asked.

'Some stray dog wandered in off the street and pissed all over that annoying Muggle woman's handbag,' Harry explained, laughing. Remus winced and put his head in his hands.

Sirius reappeared after a couple of minutes.

'Feeling better?' Harry asked with a smirk.

'Much,' Sirius replied brightly. He sat down at the table and took charge of ordering their food. He started them off with cigar-shaped cheese pies and an assortment of tasty dips. Sirius rattled off their exotic names with ease, but Harry couldn't keep them straight. Then they had a salad before moving onto the meat. Sirius ordered several different kinds of kebabs: lamb kebabs, chicken kebabs, salmon kebabs, kebabs which were made from a mixture of ground beef and lamb. Harry and Draco devoured the delicious new food with abandon.

'You were right, Uncle Sirius!' Draco exclaimed. 'Kebabs are definitely on the same order as pizza!'


	16. Part I: Chapter 16

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: My thanks to all the readers and reviewers! No****w for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 16

Remus Lupin fought desperately to keep his anxiety hidden as he stepped into Dumbledore's office. Sirius had eventually persuaded him that this was the right course of action for them to take, with a bit of help from James's portrait, but Sirius and James had always possessed an uncanny ability to convince Remus to do things that deep down he felt to be wrong. Filch's cat in third year was only one example.

'Good afternoon, Remus,' Dumbledore greeted him, a twinkle in his eye. 'What a delightful surprise! Please sit down.' He gestured towards a dish of sweets. 'Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'

'No, thank you, Professor,' Remus replied as he took a seat.

'It is very good to see you, Remus. It has been far too long.'

'About that, Professor, I wanted to apologise,' Remus said. 'It wasn't fair of me to blame you for what happened to Harry.'

'I assure you, my boy, you cannot possibly blame me for that tragic incident as much as I blame myself,' Dumbledore said soberly. 'It was my duty to protect Harry, and I failed to do so. I can only hope that my inadequacy in this regard does not have dire consequences for the future.'

Remus chewed his lower lip. 'I wanted to talk with you about that as well. I've decided that, no matter what mistakes might have been made, it's still my duty to help fight in whatever way I can.'

Dumbledore beamed. 'I'm very glad to hear it. As a matter of fact, there is one immediate task for which I believe you to be most eminently suited.' He paused. 'I understand that it may prove emotionally difficult for you, and I want you to feel free to decline, or to desist at any time.'

'Thank you, Professor. What would you have me do?'

'As you know, Sirius Black has been freed from Azkaban on technical grounds,' Dumbledore explained. 'Looking back, I suppose we ought to have given him a trial, but it would hardly change the verdict. James himself told me they intended to use Sirius as the Secret Keeper, and, really, who else would they have picked?' Remus wanted to speak up and defend his friend, but Sirius had strictly forbidden him to do so. He forced himself to nod in agreement. 'I do not feel comfortable having such a dangerous wizard at large,' Dumbledore continued. 'For all we know, he's currently searching for Lord Voldemort in an attempt to bring him back.'

_Or playing Quidditch with Harry Potter in the rear garden of one of his family's many houses_, Remus thought. Aloud he said, 'It would make sense to have someone in a position to monitor his activities.'

'Precisely,' Dumbledore said. 'And who better than an old friend?'

'Me, Professor?' Remus feigned surprise. 'I couldn't possibly do such a thing! He betrayed James and Lily, and Harry too. We are hardly on good terms with one another.'

'Nonetheless, I hope you will muster the courage once again to befriend Sirius Black,' Dumbledore replied. 'Watch his movements. See who his friends are. It may be that we shall gather some clue as to the nature of his schemes.'

Remus lowered his head. 'If there's no one else, I suppose I could. For James and Lily's sake.'

'And Harry's,' Dumbledore reminded him.

'And Harry's,' Remus agreed. He let out a deep breath. 'I'll do it.'

'Thank you, Remus,' Dumbledore said with a beneficent smile. 'I know you will do a fine job.'

Remus rose to his feet, eager to get out of the office, which felt increasingly cramped. 'I suppose that will be all, Professor?'

Dumbledore raised a finger. 'Actually, there is another matter we ought to discuss.'

Remus sat back down. 'Yes?'

'I am very curious to learn more about Aries Black. I have heard rumours from certain sources that the boy may be extraordinarily gifted, and may have an unfortunate predilection for the Dark Arts. I am sure, given his lineage, this does not surprise you.'

Remus shook his head. 'He's half Black and half Malfoy. I can hardly think of a more unfortunate combination.'

'Precisely,' Dumbledore agreed. 'Find out what you can about the boy. Anything we learn now may prove to be of vital importance in the coming years.'

'I'll do my best,' Remus said, nodding his head.

'That's all any of us can do,' Dumbledore replied. 'I have one more thing to discuss with you.' He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a shimmering silver cloak. Remus gasped.

'James's Invisibility Cloak? I thought it was lost.'

'James lent it to me shortly before he died,' Dumbledore explained. 'I have learnt that the Potters made you their heir, in the event that anything happened to Harry?'

Remus nodded. 'That's right.'

Dumbledore handed the Cloak over to Remus. 'I should very much like to keep it for myself. It is a fascinating artefact. However, I believe it is right for you to have it.' He smiled. 'Besides, it may prove useful if ever you feel the need to...explore the Black family home.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Remus said sincerely. 'I shall make good use of it.'

* * *

On the evening of the Ministry ball in December, Clytemnestra took a very long time getting Harry ready. She dressed him in a fine set of antique dress robes that Pollux had worn for his wedding: blue velvet embroidered with gold thread and adorned with diamonds and sapphires along the collar and cuffs.

'Aunt Clytemnestra, do I have to wear _these _robes?' Harry complained. 'They must weigh at least a ton.'

His aunt knelt down and hemmed up the edges at the back. 'What is it your father says? Oh yes. "Watch the whinging." Wonderful phrase. Lift up your arms.'

Harry complied. 'I have other dress robes. Ones that weigh a good bit less.'

The Squib stood up and placed her hands on her hips. 'I thought that you might want to honour your great-grandfather by wearing something that belonged to him. If you'd rather not, I'm sure we can scrounge up something else. Of course, that would require much more work on my part, and you'd probably end up late to the Ministry...'

Harry's eyes fell. 'I'm sorry, Aunt Clytemnestra. I'll stop complaining.'

'There's a good lad.' She put the finishing touches on his robes and then stood back to admire her handiwork. She nodded approvingly. 'You'll do, I think. Run off and show your uncle. He's in his study.'

Harry made his way to Uncle Marius's study. The elderly man was sitting in a comfortable armchair with a book of Tennyson in his hand and his favourite pipe clenched between his teeth. Harry knocked on the door, and Uncle Marius looked up.

'Upon my word!' he exclaimed when he saw Harry. 'Who is this good-looking fellow?'

'Aunt Clytemnestra said you'd want to see,' Harry explained.

'And she was quite right,' the Squib replied. 'Turn around.'

Harry spun around and Uncle Marius nodded approvingly. 'You look every inch the heir of the House of Black tonight, my boy. I'm sure you and your father will have a marvellous time.'

'Aren't you and Aunt Clytemnestra coming?' Harry asked.

'I think it's best if we don't,' Uncle Marius said tactfully. 'Our families have been very kind to us over the past few years, what with letting us back into the family and all. It wouldn't do for us to make things unduly difficult for them.'

'Because you're Squibs,' Harry said dully. 'That's not fair.'

'Whoever said life was fair, old man? We play the hand we've been dealt. That's all any of us can do.'

'I wish things were different.'

'Be careful what you wish for,' his uncle said sternly. 'Think about it. If your aunt and I were perfectly accepted in the wizarding world, we should never have gone to the Dursleys that night, and you would be locked in a cupboard under the stairs right now instead of preparing to attend a ball at the Ministry.'

Harry grinned. 'You have a talent for putting things in perspective, Uncle Marius.'

'Years of Muggle school food will do that for you,' Uncle Marius said. 'Now run along and have a good time. Don't worry about me and your aunt. We're invited to Buckingham Palace tomorrow.'

Harry left his uncle's study and went downstairs to the parlour, where Aunt Cassiopeia was waiting, dressed in a very austere set of plain black dress robes, her hair, as always, pulled back in a tight bun. Harry thought she looked more as though she were going to a funeral than a ball, though, knowing his aunt, he rather suspected she might feel more cheerful and relaxed at a funeral, especially if it was in honour of one of the many people she loathed. The stern witch scrutinised Harry's appearance as he came in.

'The Squib knows her business, I'll give her that,' was her only remark.

They waited there in silence for five minutes before she began tapping her foot impatiently.

'Where is that father of yours?' she snapped, as though Harry were at fault. 'If he makes us late I swear to Merlin I'll Cruciate him to within an inch of his life.'

Harry made a mental note that threatening someone with the Cruciatus Curse became remarkably ineffective after the hundredth time one did it without following through.

'Haven't you ever heard of fashionably late, Aunt Cassie?' Sirius said, sweeping in majestically through the parlour doors. He was wearing a very grand set of dress robes, cloth of gold trimmed in red velvet and adorned with large rubies.

Aunt Cassie sniffed. 'You look like a walking advertisement for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.'

'However did you guess?' Sirius replied, his eyes wide. 'It took me ages to get it right.'

The old witch rolled her eyes. 'You just might have me fooled,' she replied. 'But I know for a fact that those robes were a gift to Pollux from the Moroccan Minister for Magic.'

Her nephew grinned. 'You caught me. Shall we depart?'

The two wizards and the witch gathered at the fireplace and Flooed to the Ministry.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass stood with her friend Pansy Parkinson, watching the various boys as they entered the Ministry's Grand Ballroom.

'That's Vincent Crabbe,' Pansy said, referring to one very large boy. 'Decent family, of course, but he's a bit dim-witted.'

Daphne sighed. 'Can't there be at least one pureblood wizard left in Britain who doesn't _look_ inbred?'

Pansy giggled. 'That's not a very nice thing to say.'

'Sorry. Two, then.'

Pansy giggled some more.

Just then a family of three walked into the room, all blond. Pansy sighed.

'Oh, there you go, Daphne. Isn't he a dream?' she gushed.

Daphne glanced at the boy, who had pointed, aristocratic features. 'He's not bad,' she admitted.

'That's Draco Malfoy. I met him two years ago over the summer while he was vacationing with his parents in Spain. My father says his father has a lot of influence with the Minister.' She dragged Daphne by the hand. 'Let's go meet him.'

Daphne followed her friend helplessly. They trotted over towards Draco, who had taken up a position near the punch once his parents had split up to make their respective rounds.

'Good evening, Draco,' Pansy cooed. 'It's so good to see you again.'

Draco looked at her blankly for a second before his eyes lit up in recognition. 'Oh, hello, Pansy.'

'Daphne, allow me to present Draco Malfoy,' Pansy said. 'Draco, this is Daphne Greengrass.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Daphne said.

'The pleasure is all mine,' Draco replied. His eyes darted about the room as though he were looking for someone. 'Have you seen my cousin, Aries Black?'

'Ooh, isn't that Sirius Black's son?' Pansy exclaimed. 'Is he really coming tonight?'

'He's supposed to be,' Draco answered, still looking around. 'Uncle Sirius said they were both coming.'

Daphne shivered involuntarily at the casual way Draco referred to the infamous wizard.

'What's he like, Draco?' Pansy asked eagerly. 'They say he was one of You-Know-Who's most dangerous followers.'

Draco smirked. 'Uncle Sirius is cool. He's loads of fun to be around, but you don't want to get on his bad side.' He looked over towards the door and smiled. 'In fact, there he is right now, as inconspicuous as ever.'

Both girls turned around to look. A very stern-looking witch in plain black robes had just walked in, and behind her strolled two wizards in opulent robes who could not possibly be mistaken for anything but father and son. The elder had long black hair and a closely trimmed beard. Daphne suspected he had once been very good-looking, but now he was too thin and his eyes carried a haunted, dangerous look. She didn't much fancy the idea of spending time in close quarters with a wizard who looked like that, no matter how 'cool' Draco said he was.

'Look at those robes!' Pansy breathed. 'They must have cost thousands of Galleons. And the boy's robes too! What I wouldn't give to have robes like that.'

But Daphne wasn't thinking about the boy's clothing. Her eyes were fixed on the younger Black's face. Aries Black wore his insolent good looks like he wore his princely robes, with a casual nonchalance that suggested he thought them nothing more than his due. His bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and the boy bore himself like his father, with the confidence born from knowing that the whole world was one's to command.

'He's gorgeous,' she found herself saying. She blushed slightly once she realised she had spoken aloud.

'Who, Uncle Sirius?' Draco said incredulously.

'No, silly,' Pansy told him in a dreamy voice. 'Your cousin.'

Draco snorted. 'Aries?'

'Oh, Merlin!' Pansy shrieked. 'He's coming this way.'

It was true. Aries Black had left his father's side and was wandering over towards Draco.

'Good evening, Draco,' he drawled with a very pronounced upper-crust accent. Daphne wondered whether he had taken lessons to sound like that. He turned towards the girls and smiled. 'I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting these lovely ladies.'

'Daphne, Pansy, this is my cousin, Aries Black,' Draco said. 'Aries, these are Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson.'

Aries bowed slightly. 'I am honoured to make your acquaintance.'

'Likewise,' Daphne murmured. The orchestra transitioned into a waltz. Draco and Aries looked at each other. They seemed to be communicating silently, their eyes shifting back and forth. Eventually Aries nodded his head in acquiescence. He stepped closer towards Daphne and offered her his hand.

'May I have this dance, Miss Greengrass?' he asked.

Daphne nodded and placed her hand in his. They went out onto the dance floor and Aries launched into the waltz. He had nowhere near the ability of his father, who was currently twirling elegantly about the ballroom with a dark-haired witch Daphne didn't know, but Aries managed well enough, and Daphne found herself quite enjoying the opportunity to dance with him.

'So, Miss Greengrass, I take it you are starting Hogwarts next year?' Aries asked her.

'That's right,' she replied. 'I'm very much looking forward to it.'

'What House do you think you'll be in?' he asked.

'Slytherin, most likely,' Daphne answered. 'All my family have been in Slytherin.'

'So have mine,' Aries replied. 'Except for my dad. He was in Gryffindor.'

She raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'You find that surprising?'

'A bit,' Daphne admitted.

Aries chuckled. 'Dad is a very bold character. He doesn't much like to slink around in the shadows, though he can if he needs to.'

'That doesn't sound much like the Sirius Black everyone talks about.' The girl blushed. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.'

'Why not? It's true, isn't it?' Aries smirked. 'Tell me. Who is this Sirius Black that everyone talks about?'

Daphne paused. 'They say he was one of You-Know-Who's greatest followers. They say he deceived all his friends for years and betrayed them.'

Aries snorted. 'That just goes to show how much "everyone" knows my dad. Bunch of idiots.'

'My father says that Professor Dumbledore...'

'Please don't mention that Muggle-loving old fool around me, Miss Greengrass,' Aries said coldly, for the first time making Daphne feel a bit uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry,' the girl replied, and they danced without speaking for a few moments. Daphne took a deep breath. 'Tell me, Mr Black. Who is the real Sirius Black that no one actually knows?'

Aries smiled. 'My dad is the best father in the world. Nothing frightens him, and he's loyal to his friends no matter what. He has a great sense of humour and loves to take me and Draco on adventures. You don't want to cross him, but he's not really strict either. You just have to follow the rules.'

'Does he have many rules?'

Aries shook his head. 'Only five.'

'So few?' Daphne was surprised. Her family had many more rules than that. 'What are they?'

'The first one comes up most often: "No whinging." Dad can't stand to listen to people complaining, especially when their voice goes all high-pitched and nasal.'

Daphne laughed. 'I shouldn't have thought that would be the most important.'

'They're ranked in the order he came up with them at school,' Aries explained. 'The seond one is: "If the sun isn't up yet, neither is Sirius." Never forget that one, or the consequences are likely to be dire. Draco ran into trouble over that one during the summer. He's an early riser.'

'What's the next one?' the girl asked with a grin.

'"Never lie to Sirius." That's probably the most important one. If you steal something of his and lose it, it's better just to tell him. He'll figure it out anyway, and then there will be hell to pay.'

Daphne blushed. 'Doesn't he mind it if you swear?'

Aries stared at her blankly. 'Pardon?'

'You just said an impolite word,' she pointed out.

'Sorry,' Aries mumbled, looking a bit embarrassed. 'Aunt Narcissa doesn't like it either. I should have been more careful in front of a girl.'

'I don't mind,' Daphne said quickly. 'It's just that my parents are very strict about things like that, and I was surprised Mr Black didn't seem to care.'

'Dad?' Aries laughed. 'No, not at all. He's actually a bad influence on me in that regard.'

Daphne joined in his laughter. For some reason she found the thought of swearing as one of Sirius Black's chief vices to be quite amusing. 'So what's the fourth rule?' she asked.

'Sirius locutus est, causa finita est.'

The girl rolled her eyes. 'Sirius has spoken, the case is closed?'

'Dad says it's the rule that covers all the others,' Aries said. 'He hates it if you keep arguing with him once he's made up his mind.'

Daphne frowned. 'I thought you said he came up with these rules at school.'

'He did.'

'Didn't his friends object to that one?'

Aries snorted. 'Of course they did. My dad's best friend, my godfather James Potter, had his own set of rules, and one of them was the exact same, only with "Jacobus" instead of "Sirius". Even now, Dad's always bickering with James's portrait over which one of them gets the last word.'

'What's the fifth rule?' Daphne asked.

'Probieren geht über Studieren,' Aries replied with a smile.

'I beg your pardon?'

Aries chuckled. 'It's German. It means trying is better than studying. Dad says that's his philosophy of life.'

Daphne shook her head. 'Well, it certainly seems that the Sirius Black you know doesn't have much in common with the one everyone else talks about.'

The music drew to a close and they stopped. Aries escorted her back to her table.

'It's been a pleasure dancing with you, Miss Greengrass,' he said with a bow. 'I hope to have the honour again sometime.'

Daphne sat at the table and watched as the fascinating boy went over to talk with the witch his father had been dancing with. Pansy returned from where she had been dancing with Draco and sat beside her.

'Tell me,' she said eagerly. 'What was he like?'

'Interesting,' Daphne replied with a smile. 'And he doesn't look inbred, either.'

'Of course.' Pansy giggled. 'My mother says it's just like with horses. It all depends on the quality of what one's breeding.'


	17. Part I: Chapter 17

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Happy Boxing Day to everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. A heartfelt thank-you to all the readers and reviewers.**

* * *

Chapter 17

Christmas that year was Sirius's first since he had been freed from Azkaban, and he did everything in his power to make it memorable. He personally oversaw the decorations at Windermere Court and Grimmauld Place, holding nothing back in his desire to create a festive atmosphere. The sound of Christmas carols filled both houses from morning until nightfall, coming from every possible source: enchanted instruments, portraits, suits of armour, busts, statues, even the house elves. Sirius himself could often be heard to join in with his clear baritone, which rather surprised Harry, who had not realised how well his dad could sing.

On Christmas Eve, Sirius took Harry by Side-Along Apparition to Remus's house on the moors, where they exchanged a few small gifts and ate a light supper whilst Sirius and Remus recounted stories of Christmases past. After supper Remus took down a box of photographs from a cupboard and pulled out a small album. The cover was inscribed in a neat, female hand: _Harry's First Christmas._

Harry stared at the album wide-eyed. 'Is that what I think it is?'

Remus nodded. 'After your parents died, I went through their house and removed most of the personal items.' He chewed his lower lip nervously, as though worried that Harry might think he had been stealing. 'I didn't want souvenir-hunters taking them.'

'You did the right thing, Moony,' Sirius said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

'I'm saving them for you to have when you're older,' Remus went on. 'I'd give them to you now, but Padfoot said he thought that might arouse suspicion.'

Harry nodded. 'He's right. Best for you to keep them for now.' He gave a small smile. 'But I should like very much to see them.'

They sat down on the sofa - Harry in the middle, Remus and Sirius on either side - and began flipping through the Christmas album. From every page, Lily and Harry laughed whilst all four Marauders performed their wild antics. James and Lily, of course, looked just as they did in their portrait, but it struck Harry how different Sirius and Remus were. Remus looked much younger in the pictures, with no grey hairs and fewer scars. Sirius looked much better-fed and still possessed every bit of his dashing good looks. Harry looked up from the photographs to see the men as they now appeared. Remus was gaunt and tired, looking older than his thirty years, but occasionally his eyes would brighten up at some memory or picture, and at such moments he could seem years younger. Sirius had filled out a good bit since the summer, and was no longer as gaunt as he had been when Harry first met him, but he was still too thin, and his eyes continually bore that desperate, haunted look. Here too, however, a glint of mischief or delight would occasionally appear, and then Harry would be vividly reminded of the devil-may-care young man in the photographs.

The real shock for Harry, however, was seeing himself in the photos. Even as a baby, Harry had looked remarkably like James, except for his eyes, which were all Lily. Harry had been Aries for so long he had almost forgotten what he had looked like before he had been rescued by the Squibs, what he would still look like if only James and Lily hadn't died, or even if Dumbledore had sent Harry to live with Sirius instead of the Muggles. On the one hand, the sheer joy on baby Harry's face in the photographs could easily have belonged to him at any age: when he rode a broomstick for the first time, when he met Sirius, whenever he and Draco played a successful prank. But Harry found he could not look at the tiny boy with messy hair without thinking of the nights he had spent locked in the Dursleys' cupboard without any dinner, praying that someone would come to free him. It was odd, to say the least.

Harry turned the page of the album and was startled to see a large black dog, a stag and a rat chasing each other around the Christmas tree, whilst Lily shook her head in mock disapproval and baby Harry clapped in excitement. Eventually the dog pounced on the stag, and they both crashed into the Christmas tree, sending it toppling to the floor.

'Dad, I knew you were an Animagus,' he said, 'but I didn't realise the others were too.'

Sirius raised his eyebrows. 'Didn't Prongs ever tell you and Draco?'

Harry shook his head.

'That makes sense,' Remus observed. 'If he told one secret, he might need to tell the other.'

'Good old Prongs,' Sirius said with an affectionate smile. 'Even from beyond the grave he manages to keep his promises.'

Something clicked in Harry's mind, and he squealed with delight. 'I get it!' he exclaimed. 'You're Padfoot because you turn into a big black dog, like the Grim, so the others' nicknames must be connected with their Animagus forms too.' He pointed at the stag. 'That's James, isn't it? Prongs.'

Sirius nodded. 'Well done, Harry.'

Harry thought for a second and then pointed at the rat, whose long, naked tail was clearly in evidence. 'Wormtail. That's Peter Pettigrew.'

Sirius and Remus both growled at that, but Sirius nodded.

'That only leaves Moony.' Harry turned to Remus. 'What's your Animagus form, Uncle Remus?'

Remus looked a bit peaky. 'I don't have one.'

'Moony can't turn into an Animagus,' Sirius explained.

Harry frowned pensively as he turned the page, only to be greeted by a picture of baby Harry surrounded by four stuffed animals: a dog, a rat, a stag...and a wolf.

Harry traced his finger over the wolf's distinctive snout. Moony.

No wonder he couldn't become an Animagus.

Harry gulped hard and looked up at Remus questioningly. Remus nodded slowly. Harry looked back at the picture.

'How long?' he asked quietly.

'Since I was a child,' Remus replied calmly.

'Have you ever...bitten anyone?' Harry asked.

Remus shook his head. 'Never.'

Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulder. 'We found out when we were in school. You see, once a month Moony has to be locked up so he doesn't hurt anyone. That's why we all became Animagi—to keep him company.'

Harry nodded. 'Because animals are unaffected by the werewolf's bite.' He let out a deep breath.

'Are you all right, Harry?' Remus asked nervously.

Harry nodded. 'It just takes some getting used to. My dad's best friend is a Dark creature.' He flashed Remus a wry grin. 'I can't complain though, can I? I mean, I'm a Parselmouth. I'm supposedly a Dark wizard, right?' He shrugged. 'You're still you. You just have...a problem.'

Remus chuckled. 'That's exactly what James used to call it—my furry little problem.'

Harry snorted. That did sound like the kind of thing James would say.

'You do understand that you can't tell anyone about any of this,' Sirius warned Harry, who rolled his eyes.

'Yes, of course,' he replied. 'What's one more secret when one already has so many?'

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. 'There's a good lad.' He stood up from the sofa and stretched. 'Now, I believe we have an outing to be getting on with.'

'An outing?' Harry was incredulous. 'It's nearly eleven on Christmas Eve! We have to go over to Malfoy Manor early tomorrow.'

Sirius smiled. 'Yes, but this is a very special outing. I'm afraid we can't do it at any other time.'

He took off his robes, revealing a Muggle suit underneath, and held out clothes for Harry and Remus to change into. Once they were dressed, they all put on heavy coats and Apparated to the centre of what appeared to be a rather small village.

'Where are we?' Harry asked.

'Godric's Hollow,' Sirius replied. 'Welcome home, Harry Potter.'

A tiny stone church stood in the centre of the plaza. It looked very old and weather-worn. The sound of familiar Christmas carols came from inside.

'That's the church where you were christened,' Sirius explained. 'Shall we go in?'

They slipped into the very back of the crowded church and readily joined in a slightly off-key but very spirited rendition of 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing'.

* * *

In the chaos of everyone filing out of the church, Remus and Harry got separated from Sirius.

'How are we ever going to find him in this madness?' Harry asked Remus.

'I have a fair idea where he is,' Remus replied. 'You see, Harry, this is a special church for a number of reasons. Not only were you christened here, but...' He drifted off, but Harry could see where he was leading them. The churchyard.

'James and Lily are buried here, aren't they?' he whispered. Remus nodded and opened the gate so they could go in.

Sirius was standing over a grave near the back wall, his hands folded in front of him.

'I'm so sorry, mate,' he was saying quietly as Harry and Remus came up behind him. 'You deserved better. You both did. And Harry deserved to grow up with you, instead of the Raving and Most Mental Madhouse. He's a really good kid. You'd be proud of him.'

Remus stood back to give Sirius some privacy, but Harry leaned closer so he could hear better. The werewolf didn't stop him.

'He's going off to Hogwarts next year, you know,' Sirius sniffed. 'I'm not really ready for him to go yet. It feels like I haven't had enough time with him. He'll do great, though. He's clever and funny. He'll take Hogwarts by storm. He has a good friend to share it with, Draco Malfoy.' He snorted. 'I know, I can't believe it either, but Draco's a good kid too. They rather remind me of us at their age.' He paused. 'I wish I could know what you think of how I'm doing. I know I can never fill your shoes, but I'm trying to be a decent dad.'

Harry came up and put his arms around Sirius's waist. 'You're the best.'

Sirius looked down at him in surprise. 'How long have you been there?' he asked.

'Long enough,' Harry replied, and looked down at the stone marker. It was inscribed with the names and dates of James and Lily Potter. 'Is this your first time coming here?'

Sirius shook his head and smiled. 'No, actually I'm afraid I come here rather often. I like to keep Prongs updated on how you're doing.'

'You could always talk to his portrait,' Harry reminded him.

'Oh, I do that too,' Sirius replied. 'This seems more real, somehow.'

They stood there awhile, staring down at the grave in silence. Before they left, Sirius conjured a bouquet of flowers and let Harry lay them at the gravestone. As they walked away, Harry noticed a smaller marker next to James and Lily's. It read: _Harry James Potter, 1980-1986. The Boy Who Lived._

'What is that?' Harry snarled.

'Oh, that.' Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I assume Dumbledore had it placed here after your unfortunate demise.'

Harry, however, was in no mood to joke around. 'Is the grave empty, or do you think the old man found some other child to put in my place?'

'Harry!' Sirius scolded. 'I'm hardly Dumbledore's biggest fan, but it's just ridiculous to suggest he'd do anything so nasty. I'm sure the grave is empty.'

'Good,' Harry said coldly. 'Because then no one will mind if I do _this_.' Harry drew his wand and hissed a curse in Parseltongue. The offensive gravestone was blasted to smithereens.

Remus came running over in shock. 'What happened?'

'Harry doesn't care for his gravestone,' Sirius explained.

'I see,' Remus replied. 'Won't the Ministry detect his underage magic?'

'They can't detect who did it, Moony, only that it was done,' Sirius replied carelessly. 'And Godric's Hollow has always had a significant wizarding population.'

'You do realise that blasting away Harry Potter's gravestone will attract attention?' Remus pointed out.

'I don't care,' Harry said through gritted teeth.

Remus started to argue, but Sirius shut him up.

'I think the boy has the right to decide whether he wants a gravestone or not,' he said wryly before turning to Harry. 'Is there anything else you'd like to blow up, or can we go home now?'

Harry chuckled. 'I think I'm done.'

As the three wizards left the graveyard, Harry felt oddly light and full of holiday cheer. He started singing 'I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In' at the top of his lungs, and Sirius immediately joined in. Remus gave them an exasperated look, but eventually relented, and lent his voice to the mix.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore opened his newspaper on Boxing Day to find a most distressing headline.

**HARRY POTTER'S GRAVE VANDALISED!**

_In a shocking act of Christmas hooliganism, Harry Potter's tombstone in Godric's Hollow was destroyed in the early morning hours of Christmas Day, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. _It is unknown who committed this terrible crime, or with what motive, but highly placed sources within the Ministry of Magic indicated that it may be the work of remaining followers of the Dark wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_'I don't think there's any doubt, really, that Death Eaters were behind it,' one source stated, having agreed to an interview only on condition of anonymity. 'Who else would have anything against Harry Potter?'_

_By a happy coincidence, four underage wizards were in the near vicinity of the cemetery at the time of the incident, and Ministry wizards were able to use the Trace to ascertain that the Blasting Curse was used at 1:03 am, December 25, in the cemetery of the parish church of St Godric of Finchale. It is considered very likely that this was the curse used to reduce Harry Potter's gravestone to rubble. Ministry officials have refused to release the names of the four underage wizards, though our sources have assured us that none of the children is considered a suspect at this time._

_'The Trace can tell us what magic was done around an underage wizard, when and where,' one Ministry official clarified. 'It cannot, unfortunately, tell us who was responsible for a particular spell.'_

_When asked whether it was suspicious that four underage wizards were out and about in the early hours of Christmas Day, Ministry officials claimed that a Christmas service had concluded shortly before the incident, and that the children had apparently been present at the service._

_'We will find the perpetrator of this heinous crime and bring him to justice,' said Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. 'The Boy who Lived is a symbol of hope to the wizarding population of Britain, and we will not allow malcontents to stir up trouble in this peaceful society that we have rebuilt from the ashes of the war.'_

Dumbledore put down the paper and took out a quill. He wanted very much to ascertain the identities of these four underage wizards, suspecting that they might hold the key to finding the vandal. Ministry policy might prohibit the release of that information to the general public, but Dumbledore was hardly the general public. Who in the Ministry would object to such a reasonable request from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?


	18. Part I: Chapter 18

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I am very glad so many people are reading the story. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 18

Dumbledore sat in his office quietly, sipping a cup of hot tea as he waited for Remus Lupin to arrive. He had sent for the werewolf immediately upon learning that one of the unnamed underage wizards who had been detected within the vicinity of the incident was none other than Aries Black, the son of the one person in England whom Dumbledore thought to have more cause than any other to try to take vengeance on poor Harry Potter, even after the boy's death.

Remus knocked on the door.

'Come in,' Dumbledore called out, and the young wizard entered the office. 'Ah, hello, Remus. Please have a seat.' Remus sat down across the desk from Dumbledore, and the Headmaster offered him a sweet, which the werewolf declined.

'You had a good Christmas, I trust?' Dumbledore asked.

'Very nice, Professor, thank you,' Remus replied. 'How was yours?'

'Quite pleasant, thank you.'

'How can I be of service, Professor?' Remus asked politely.

'I have learnt from my sources at the Ministry that Aries Black was one of the four underage wizards who was present at the scene of the recent destruction of Harry Potter's tombstone,' Dumbledore said.

Remus frowned. 'Professor, we both know that Harry Potter's body does not rest alongside his parents.'

Dumbledore opened his hands slightly, conceding the point. 'Be that as it may, Remus, the marker is nonetheless a potent symbol for wizards and witches throughout Britain. Its destruction can have only one purpose: to strike terror into the hearts of innocent people.' He paused. 'I was wondering if you knew anything about it.'

Remus shook his head. 'I've already spoken with the Ministry about it. Aries came to Godric's Hollow that evening with me. Sirius had a...romantic encounter scheduled for that evening, and I didn't want the boy to be alone.'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'A romantic encounter on Christmas Eve?'

'You know Sirius,' Remus shrugged. 'I wanted to take Aries to a Christmas Eve service, expose him to a little bit of a wider world than what he's grown up with amongst the Blacks.'

'A laudable purpose,' Dumbledore said. 'Why did you take him to Godric's Hollow?'

'I have good memories associated with that church,' Remus explained. 'Because of the Potters.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Did you see anything of interest at the time of the incident?'

Remus shook his head. 'As soon as I heard the explosion, I took Aries back home by Side-Along Apparition. I didn't want to take any chances with his safety.'

'Very sensible of you.' Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'Sirius Black is one of very few people who would have the motive to destroy Harry's tombstone. Is it possible that he came separately to Godric's Hollow whilst you thought he was out?'

'I'm afraid that's impossible, Professor,' Remus said. 'Sirius was with his female companion at the time of the explosion.'

'How can you be sure?' Dumbledore asked.

Remus blushed. 'When I brought Aries home, the young lady in question was still present.'

'I see.' The aged Headmaster sighed. 'In that case, it appears that we must search elsewhere for the culprit.' He paused. 'Remus, what do you think of Aries Black?'

'I find him to be a delightful child,' Remus replied. 'Rather rambunctious, perhaps, and overly fond of mischief, but basically decent. He's very close to his cousin, Draco Malfoy, and they seem utterly devoted to each other.' He paused sadly. 'They actually remind me a bit of James and Sirius.'

'Any sign of an unhealthy propensity towards the Dark Arts?'

Remus shook his head. 'Aries is somewhat familiar with them, of course, as are most young wizards of his family background, but I have seen no evidence of a particular inclination towards Dark magic.'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Thank you, Remus. We shall speak again soon.'

Remus rose from his chair. 'I look forward to it, Professor.'

* * *

1991 brought fresh sorrow to the Black family, as Arcturus Black's drawn-out illness finally concluded with his death on Easter Monday. His funeral was a quiet, private affair, very unlike the grand state occasion Pollux's had been. The family went down to France on Tuesday; the funeral was scheduled for Thursday. Much to Harry's confusion, Arcturus's death did not seem to hit him with the same force as Pollux's had. Part of it, no doubt, stemmed from the fact that Arcturus had been ill for quite some time, and the death was not at all unexpected. Furthermore, though Harry had many fond memories of his time at the chateau, he had never spent much time with his Great-Grandfather, who had always preferred to maintain a cordial aloofness, which, though it might at times rise to the level of authentic affection, never reached that peak of true grandfatherly love which had characterised the relations between Harry and Pollux. Above all else, however, it was the irrepressibility of Melania Black that carried the entire family through the funeral. She bore her husband's passing with her quiet good humour and indefatigable diligence, singlehandedly taking charge of all preparations for Arcturus's burial.

'We had a long and happy marriage, boys,' she told Harry and Draco as they helped her chop potatoes for the funeral meal. Ordinarily Granny would have handed such a menial task over to Roquefort, but in this instance she felt that a bit of manual labour was just what the boys needed to keep themselves occupied whilst the adults concerned themselves with other matters. 'This year would have been our seventy-first anniversary. I only hope the two of you are as fortunate in your spouses as I have been.'

'Won't you miss him, Granny?' Harry asked.

'Of course I will,' she replied, giving Harry an affectionate smile as she checked on the beef bourguignon. 'For a little while, at least.'

'Then what will happen?' Draco asked, confused. 'Why won't you miss him anymore?'

'Because I shall go to rejoin him,' Granny answered calmly, 'and we shall never be apart again.'

Arcturus was buried in the little family cemetery on the grounds of the chateau. The service was quiet and dignified, and the weather was lovely. Granny herself had chosen the inscription for the tombstone:

_In the sight of the unwise he seemeth to die:  
__His departure is taken for misery,  
__His going from us to be utter destruction:  
__But he is in peace._

After the burial, the family walked together up the long path to the chateau where Granny presided serenely over a magnificent banquet, surpassing even her usual standard.

'Mother, I do wish you would come back to England and live with me and Nate,' said Sirius's Aunt Lucretia, Granny's daughter.

'You have quite enough to be getting on with, dear,' Granny answered her, sweetly but firmly. 'There's no need to add a troublesome old woman to the mix. I am quite happy here.'

'I don't feel comfortable leaving you here all by yourself, Granny,' Sirius said from the other end. With Arcturus's passing, he was now head of the family, and Harry noticed a subtle shift in how the others related to him.

'I appreciate your concern, dear, but it's really quite unnecessary,' Granny replied. 'I have Roquefort to take care of me. I have some friends in town, and you and the boys will come here over the summer. What more do I need?'

'Actually, Mrs Black,' Lucius said. 'Since Draco is heading to school in September, we had thought to keep him at home this summer.'

Harry and Draco gave each other a forlorn look when they heard that, and Granny noticed.

'Call me Granny, dear. Everyone does,' she told Lucius. 'As for your dilemma, I have a simple enough solution for that. You can all come here for the summer. There's plenty of room in this draughty old house for everyone.'

Lucius looked ready to refuse, but Abraxas spoke up first, glaring sideways at his son as he did so. 'What a charming idea, madam! We should all be delighted to spend our summer in your elegant home, enjoying your exquisite cuisine.'

'It's settled then,' Sirius said with a barely suppressed grin. 'We're all coming here for the summer.'

* * *

'I thought it was a very kind gesture from Granny,' Narcissa said. She was lying in bed, but Lucius was pacing angrily about the guestroom. 'Besides, it made the boys happy. Didn't you see the look on poor Draco's face when he heard what you said?'

'I did, Narcissa,' Lucius replied. 'Nonetheless, I think it would be very good for Draco to spend some time apart from Aries. He needs to make other friends. I introduced him to the Crabbe and Goyle boys at the Ministry Christmas ball, and he hardly said a word to them.'

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. 'If those boys are anything like their fathers, I should be very surprised if Draco had much in common with them.'

Lucius stopped pacing and sat on the bed. 'They are useful, Narcissa.'

'They are idiots, Lucius.'

'Friends are one thing, allies are another,' Lucius said.

Narcissa smiled and ran her hand along her husband's cheek. 'You've made my point beautifully, dear. Draco and Aries are friends—no, more than that. They are family. There will be plenty of time for them both to acquire useful but stupid allies later.' Lucius opened his mouth to protest, but Narcissa laid her finger gently across his lips. 'If Draco showed any evidence of lacking ordinary social skills, I should agree with you,' she said. 'But he handled himself very nicely at the ball, and seemed to charm quite a number of proper young ladies.'

'It's not right for a boy to spend so much time away from his family,' Lucius said feebly. 'Lately Sirius Black has seen more of my son than I have.'

Narcissa frowned at him. 'Sirius is my cousin and your brother-in-law. He's hardly outside our family.'

'Sirius Black is a blood traitor,' Lucius replied.

'Don't you dare say such a thing, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!' Narcissa scolded.

'Have you forgotten the torment he put his parents through?' Lucius asked. 'He ran away from home and joined the Order of the Phoenix, for Merlin's sake!'

'In the end, however, his breeding came to the surface,' Narcissa pointed out. 'He married your sister, a respectable pureblood witch, and fathered a Parselmouth who has a demonstrable talent for the Dark Arts. Sirius may deny it, but it is generally accepted that he entered the Dark Lord's service.'

'I do not recall ever hearing of him amongst the Death Eaters,' Lucius said petulantly.

'Do you honestly believe that the Dark Lord entrusted all his secrets to you?' Narcissa replied mockingly. 'Besides, Sirius spent nine years in Azkaban for the Dark Lord, which is more than you can claim to have done.'

'Would you rather I had gone to prison, my dear, together with Bella and Rudy?'

'No,' Narcissa said primly. 'I much prefer to have my husband with me. But I find it a bit amusing for you to accuse Sirius of being a blood traitor, when he has suffered more prejudice and maltreatment from the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers than any of us.'

'What of his behaviour since his release? He's always whisking the boys off to Merlin-knows-where on some mad adventure. He's loud and obnoxious, and all too proud of his Gryffindor background.'

Narcissa smiled. 'Sirius is larger than life, I'll certainly give you that. He's always been that way.' She laughed. 'But that hardly makes him a blood traitor. He hasn't objected to the boys' weekly lessons with Aunt Cassie in special magic, his dislike for Dumbledore is clear and I haven't heard either of the boys spout any Muggle-loving nonsense.'

Lucius frowned. 'It seems he has even you under his spell.'

His wife rolled her eyes. 'I don't think any malicious enchantments are to blame, Lucius. Sirius is a decent wizard. He cares deeply about both Aries and Draco, and they naturally return his affection. If you would like to receive your own share, you might consider spending less time holed up in your study or visiting with the Minister, and a bit more time playing Quidditch with the boys on the grounds.'

Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'I am an important wizard with important work. Sirius Black may not have anything better to do than play Quidditch all day, but I certainly do.'

His wife sighed. 'Of course, dear.'

* * *

That June, right after Draco's birthday, the entire family relocated to the chateau. It was a bit more crowded that the boys were accustomed to see it during their summer holiday, but the house was very large, and there was more than enough room for all. Granny seemed utterly delighted to have so many guests to care for, and the entire house was filled with a spirit of good cheer and family fun. The fact that most of the family considered it good fun to discuss the best way to poison one's enemies or smuggle potion-quality human blood past the Ministry was entirely beside the point.

About a week before Harry's eleventh birthday, he was awoken by an owl tapping on his window. A letter dangled from its leg. Harry opened the window and retrieved the letter. It bore the Hogwarts crest and was addressed in green ink:

_Mr A. Black  
The Largest Bedroom  
The East Wing  
Chateau Noir  
Provence, France_

Harry threw on his bathrobe and slippers and ran down the corridor to Sirius's room, the letter clutched in his hand.

'Dad!' he shouted, jumping on Sirius's bed. 'It came!'

'Second rule,' Sirius growled.

'The sun's up,' Harry answered back. 'You're fair game.'

Sirius groaned and sat up in bed. 'What came?' he asked.

'My Hogwarts letter!' Harry said eagerly.

His dad yawned and stretched. 'Let's see it.'

Harry barely managed to open the envelope before the door to Sirius's room burst open and Draco came running in.

'You weren't in your room,' he told Harry. 'I thought I'd find you here.'

'Good morning, Draco,' Sirius said wryly.

'Good morning, Uncle Sirius,' Draco replied quickly before turning back to Harry. 'So you got yours too?'

Harry nodded and held up his envelope.

'For Merlin's sake, just read them already,' Sirius said.

The boys yanked their letters out and began to read them aloud at the same time.

'Dear Mr Black,' Harry began.

'Dear Mr Malfoy,' Draco corrected.

'We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!' both boys shouted in unison.

'You sound so excited.' Sirius smiled fondly. 'Were you worried you wouldn't get in?'

'No, but it's still a bit thrilling to see it written down,' Draco replied.

'There's a long list of supplies,' Harry observed.

Draco nodded. 'We'll have to go to Diagon Alley.'

Sirius chuckled. 'Somehow I don't think that will be a problem. May I see your letters?'

Both boys thrust their letters into his hands. Sirius looked them over.

'I think I'll get you both your animals,' he said thoughtfully. 'Do you want an owl, a cat or a toad?'

'An owl,' both boys said together.

'Well, if I buy you owls, I'll expect lots of letters from both of you,' Sirius teased. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eye. 'Now go show your letters to Aunt Cassie.'

* * *

A week before they were set to leave for Hogwarts, the family bade farewell to Granny and came home to England. Sirius took the boys to Diagon Alley to purchase their school supplies and bought them two magnificent eagle owls. Harry named his owl 'Pollux', so Draco decided to name his 'Castor'.

The night before Harry went off to school, Sirius came into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

'Are you nervous?' he asked.

'A bit,' Harry admitted. 'But mostly I'm excited.'

Sirius grinned. 'You'll have a great time. With you and Draco there together I have no doubt it will be like the Marauders reborn. Just try not to burn down the castle your first year.'

'I have that planned for third year,' Harry replied cheekily.

Sirius chuckled. 'By the way, I've placed a couple of special items in your trunk. One of them is a mirror. I have its twin. If you want to talk to me, just say my name. It's a bit easier than waiting on owl post.'

'That's wicked!' Harry exclaimed.

'James and I used them when we were in separate detentions,' Sirius explained.

'Thanks, Dad,' Harry said.

'The other surprise is even better,' Sirius went on. 'It's very special, so I've buried it under your clothes. You have to promise to take good care of it, not to lose it and never to let anyone but Draco know you have it.'

'What is it?' Harry asked curiously.

'An Invisibility Cloak,' Sirius told him.

Harry's eyes went wide. 'Brilliant!'

'It belonged to James,' Sirius said. 'It was the key to much of our success. Use it well, but make sure you keep it secret. Dumbledore gave it to Moony, and we don't want the old man to figure out that he passed it on to you.'

Harry nodded. 'No need to make him suspicious.'

'There's one more thing,' Sirius said. 'We lost it, but if you can find it, it will make your time at Hogwarts ever so much more fun. It's called the Marauder's Map.'

'A map?'

'It's a special map of Hogwarts that shows the layout of the whole school,' Sirius explained. 'Moreover, it shows the identity and current location of everyone in the castle. It cannot be fooled or tricked. It was confiscated by Filch in our last year. It's probably still in his office.'

'What does it look like?' Harry asked.

'Just a spare bit of old parchment. Tap it with your wand and say the words, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." Then the map will appear. When you're done, tap your wand and say, "Mischief managed." It's very important not to forget that bit, otherwise anyone who finds it will be able to use it.'

Harry smiled at his dad. 'Do you have any other tips?'

'Just keep yourself busy,' Sirius replied, ruffling Harry's hair. 'Try new spells and experiment a bit. Remember, you'll learn more magic by doing it than by reading about it in books.' He roughly kissed the top of boy's head. 'Now get to sleep. You want to be well rested for tomorrow.'

'Good night, Dad,' Harry said.

'Good night, Harry.'


	19. Part I: Chapter 19

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Many thanks to all the readers and reviewers, and an especial thanks to those who have recommended this story to others! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 19

On September 1, the house at number seventeen, Windermere Court bustled as it never had before. The old townhouse was conveniently situated within a short walking distance from King's Cross, so it was agreed that the family would assemble there that morning before walking to the station. Abraxas, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Flooed over from Malfoy Manor, all dressed impeccably in the very elegant Muggle clothes Clytemnestra had purchased for the occasion, whilst Dobby Apparated over with Draco's trunk and owl.

Sirius shook Abraxas's and Lucius's hands, kissed his cousin on the cheek and tousled Draco's hair.

'Are you excited?' Sirius asked the blond boy, who seemed to be restraining himself from bouncing up and down only with the greatest of difficulty.

Draco nodded vigorously. 'I can hardly wait. Where's Aries?'

'He's upstairs supervising whilst Mopsy refolds his robes for the third time,' Sirius replied. 'He'll be down in a moment.'

Abraxas chuckled. 'Draco had his trunk ready two days ago.'

'Not to mention he felt the need to wake us up at four in the morning,' Lucius growled.

Draco grinned. 'What can I say? I'm looking forward to school.'

Irma and Druella Apparated over from number twelve, Grimmauld Place a few moments later. They both wore old dresses that had no doubt been highly fashionable in elite circles at the turn of the century, but which now would seem hardly less exotic than robes to Muggle eyes.

'Good morning, Grandmamma,' Sirius said, kissing the old lady's hand. 'Aunt Druella.'

'Good morning, Sirius,' Irma replied. 'Are we ready to depart?'

'We shall be in just a moment,' Sirius said. 'Aries hasn't finished packing yet.'

'He'd better hurry up,' Irma grumbled. 'You know how I abhor being made to wait, Sirius.'

'The heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will not be rushed in his own home, Irma,' Cassiopeia proclaimed in her stentorian tones, gliding into the drawing room in her customary black robes and witch's hat. 'Particularly not for those of lesser lineages.'

'He's my great-grandson, Cassiopeia,' Irma replied coldly. 'Surely my blood is as good as his.'

Cassiopeia smiled. 'One can dilute good wine with a bit of cheap wine and not gravely affect its quality, but that does not make the cheap wine any less inferior to the good.'

'The Crabbe family, at least, has never produced any Squibs,' Irma retorted.

'How could you tell if they had?' Cassiopeia replied with a sneer.

Fortunately, Marius and Clytemnestra picked that moment to enter the drawing room, and a hex war between the two old witches was narrowly averted. A moment later, Harry slid down the banister.

'Aries!' Cassiopeia snapped. 'You're the heir to the House of Black. You shouldn't slide down the banister. It's undignified.'

Harry shrugged. 'Dad does it all the time.'

'That's different, son,' Sirius said with a broad grin. 'I'm the _Head_ of the House of Black.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Good morning, everyone,' he greeted his relatives. Mopsy Apparated into the room, carrying all his things.

'You're all packed, I see,' Abraxas said.

'Finally,' Harry replied. 'I told Mopsy it was fine after the second time, but she wanted everything to be organised perfectly.'

The diligent house elf stacked the trunks alongside Draco's, together with a large wicker basket.

'What's that, Mopsy?' Sirius asked the elf.

'It's just a snack, Master Sirius,' she explained. 'A bit of something to tide over the young masters on the train. A nice steak-and-kidney pie, several kinds of sandwiches, sausage rolls, grapes, apples and a Black Forest gateau, not to mention a few other titbits, and the butterbeer, of course.'

Harry grinned at Draco. 'Isn't she wonderful?' he said.

'Take the young masters' things to the station in about fifteen minutes, Mopsy,' Sirius commanded. 'Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. We shall meet you there.'

The house-elf bowed low, and the family set out on their journey.

'I don't understand why we can't go in carriages,' Druella complained. 'Walking all this way gives me blisters.'

'Then why didn't you stay home?' Cassiopeia shot back.

'We could have taken cars,' Sirius suggested cheekily.

'I shouldn't be caught dead in one of those horrid Muggle death traps,' Irma snapped.

'Do you really know how to drive, Sirius?' Abraxas asked curiously.

'Absolutely, Dad,' his son-in-law replied, walking along the pavement with his arm around Harry's shoulders. 'If you like, I can show you sometime.'

'It's wicked, Granddad!' Draco exclaimed. 'You'll have to get Sirius to show you the Diablo.'

'And when were you going to tell me that you were taking my son driving in a Muggle vehicle?' Lucius asked sternly.

'If it makes you feel better, Lucius,' Sirius replied, 'I've never driven any vehicle without a bit of magical enhancement.'

'You don't have to explain yourself to Lucius, Sirius,' Narcissa said. 'He's just envious.'

'I haven't been to King's Cross in years,' Irma said loudly, attracting the attention of passers-by. 'September 1 is the beginning of the hunting season in Transylvania, you know. Pollux always brought home a good-sized buck on that day. It's a shame he was never able to take you boys on an expedition before he died. It's good clean fun.'

'You know, Mother dear,' said Druella, 'I read in the _Prophet_ that the Transylvanian Assembly of Warlocks has bowed to international pressure and banned Muggle hunting.'

Cassiopeia sniffed. 'It seems one cannot even rely on the Transylvanians to keep up the old ways.'

'What is this world coming to?' Irma moaned. 'I'm so glad Poll didn't live to see that.'

'I remember when the Transylvanians banned Mudblood hunting,' Abraxas said. 'It sent all the old families into an uproar. My father always said that Mudbloods were more interesting prey than Muggles, since they have teeth and claws.'

'On that happy note,' Sirius interrupted. 'What do you think of the Wimbourne Wasps this year, Dad?'

Abraxas launched into a lengthy and excruciatingly detailed discussion of the strengths and weaknesses of each of the Wasps' players. Harry and Draco were relieved at the opportunity to be able to join in the conversation. It was always so boring when the adults reminisced about their glory days.

After a quarter of an hour they arrived at the station and made their way to the platform. They had attracted stares amongst the Muggles - even Muggle clothes can be conspicuous, especially when they are hand-tailored and worth thousands of pounds - but once they reached the platform the whispering started up in earnest.

'Look over there! That's Sirius Black,' said one dumpy witch, pointing Sirius out to her neighbour.

'I heard he was high up with You-Know-Who!' opined one portly wizard.

'He's one of the richest wizards in Britain, you know. His grandfather bribed the Ministry to get him out of Azkaban,' said a stern-looking woman with a vulture on her hat.

It did not take long at all before Harry drew their attention as well.

'Do you reckon that's his son?' asked a rather plain witch with two boys.

'Watch out for that boy, Seamus. The apple doesn't roll far from the tree,' an Irishwoman admonished her son.

'You see those boys? They're cousins. Each half-Black and half-Malfoy. It couldn't be much worse if they were spawned by You-Know-Who himself,' said a pompous boy with red hair.

Cassiopeia's response was not calculated to reassure anyone of her family's basic sanity. She drew her wand and sent up angry sparks.

'I am Cassiopeia Virgo Black, authoress of _Ten Thousand Ways to Torture One's Enemies Legally,_' she shouted at the top of her considerable lungs. 'If anyone dares make another foul comment about any of my nephews, I shall give a public demonstration here and now, beginning with chapter twenty-seven: Kneecapping Curses.'

Her threat, if impolitic, was nonetheless effective. The crowd fell quiet, though they continued to stare at the Blacks and Malfoys. Sirius quietly herded the boys past the gawkers to the spot where Mopsy was waiting with their trunks, and they began the long process of making their good-byes. Narcissa was wiping her eyes with her lace handkerchief.

'Just remember,' Sirius told Harry and Draco. 'You're in school to have fun. Enjoy yourselves. You'll learn more that way anyway.'

'And if anyone gives you trouble,' Narcissa added, 'just remember that either of you could buy or sell their entire families twenty times over.'

Hugs were shared, tears were shed—even Sirius sniffled a bit—and the boys boarded the train and made their way to an empty compartment in the back. They had just stowed their trunks when Draco realised that he had forgotten his owl on the platform. The blond boy rushed off and left Harry alone in the compartment.

Suddenly a tall boy Harry didn't know appeared in the doorway. He had flaming red hair and freckles, and a smudge of dirt on his long nose.

Harry sighed. _Just what I need_, he thought. _One of the Weasley litter._

'May I help you?' he asked the boy haughtily.

The Weasley shrugged nervously, and Harry felt momentarily sorry for him.

'I was wondering if I could join you,' the boy muttered. 'Everywhere else is full.'

'Get out of the way,' a familiar voice snarled. 'That's _my_ compartment you're blocking.'

The Weasley boy turned crimson and moved to the side as Draco barged in. His owl cage hit the red-haired boy in the face, pushing him into the wall. The blond boy sauntered into the compartment and sat down.

'That was close,' he said cheerfully, completely ignoring the boy he had just slammed. 'I can't imagine what I should do if I left Castor behind.'

'Who the hell do you think you are, ramming into me like that?' the Weasley boy growled at Draco.

'I'm Draco Malfoy,' the blond boy replied, as though that explained everything.

The Weasley sniggered. 'That figures. I've heard of your family.' He turned to Harry. 'His father was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. You might want to watch out for this one. He seems like a chip off the old block.' He extended his hand. 'I'm Ron Weasley.'

Harry took the Weasley's hand and shook it firmly. 'I'm very pleased to meet you,' he said, smiling broadly. 'I'm Draco's cousin, Aries Black.'

Ron jerked his hand back as though Harry had bitten it. His eyes were very wide.

'Y-your dad's Sirius Black,' he stammered.

'That's right,' Harry said proudly.

'He murdered thirteen people with a single curse!' Ron exclaimed.

Harry only smiled beatifically. 'He's taught me everything I know.'

Ron turned pale. 'Well, I see this compartment's full. I'll find somewhere else to sit, I think.'

Draco laughed uproariously as Ron scarpered off.

'That was brilliant, Aries,' he said.

'What an idiot,' Harry grumbled.

'What did you expect?' Draco retorted. 'He's a Weasley.'

'But they're all idiots!' Harry shot back. 'Didn't you hear the people whispering on the platform?'

Draco shrugged. 'They're just envious of us, that's all.'

'Perhaps it would have been better for Aunt Cassie to tutor us all through school,' Harry moaned.

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Watch the whinging. Besides, do you really want to miss out on the opportunity to play pranks on an entire school?'

'That reminds me!' Harry exclaimed, promptly cheered by the thought of the fun they could have. 'Dad told me about something he and his friends made: It's a map of Hogwarts, only it also shows everyone in it.'

'That would be wicked,' Draco said. 'We could move about the corridors at all hours without ever getting caught.'

'The only problem is that Filch confiscated it,' Harry said. 'Dad suspects it's probably still in his office.'

'What does it look like?'

'Just a bit of old parchment,' Harry explained. 'But you activate it by saying, 'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good.'

'Music to my ears, Fred,' an unfamiliar voice said. Harry and Draco turned their heads to see two identical boys standing in the compartment door. They had the same flaming red hair as Ron Weasley.

' I totally agree with you, George,' replied the other twin, whom Harry supposed to be Fred. 'We came by to see a couple of dangerous Death Eaters in training...'

'And we found a couple of men after our own hearts,' George finished.

The twins stepped into the compartment and closed the door tightly.

'We couldn't help overhearing your conversation,' Fred said.

'It sounded as though you two weren't above indulging in a bit of mischief,' George added.

'If we were,' Draco drawled, 'why should we share our plans with you?'

Fred smirked. 'Maybe because we are the dominant mischief-makers at Hogwarts...'

'And we'd be happy to assist you with our years of accumulated wisdom,' George concluded.

'Thanks,' Harry said. 'We already know quite a bit.'

Fred sat down next to him. 'Yes, we heard that.'

'Tell us. How do you know about the Marauder's Map?' George asked, sitting down next to Draco.

Harry laughed. 'My dad and his friends made it.'

The twins could barely contain their glee. 'Your dad? Sirius Black?'

'That's right,' Harry replied lazily.

'Which one was he?' Fred asked.

Harry frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot or Prongs?' George pressed.

'Oh, that's easy,' Draco said. 'Uncle Sirius is Padfoot. Aries' godfather was Prongs, and we spend a good bit of time with Moony, too.'

'What about Wormtail?' Fred asked.

Harry growled. 'He's been permanently expelled from the Marauders.' He paused. 'How do you know about the Map?'

'We...discovered it,' George said.

'Nicked it from Filch during first year,' Fred said.

'It's helped us so much,' his twin added.

Harry furrowed his brow. 'Now we have a problem, though.'

'What's that?' the twins asked in unison.

Draco frowned. 'How are _we_ going to use the map if _you_ have it? I don't suppose you'd give it to us?'

'No,' Fred admitted.

'We might sell it,' George said cheekily.

'How much?' Harry asked.

'A hundred Galleons,' Fred said with a smirk, which quickly dissolved when Harry opened his trunk and pulled out a large sack of coins.

'It's a bit steep,' Harry said, 'but Granny gave me some pocket money over the summer. I can use that.'

'We were only kidding, mate,' George said in astonishment.

'But we'll take it,' Fred said quickly. George nodded.

Harry carefully counted out one hundred gold coins. 'Here's the gold,' he said. 'Now where's the map?'

Fred whipped the piece of parchment out from within his robes and handed it over. Harry took it and touched it with the tip of his wand.

'I solemnly swear I'm up to no good,' he intoned, and the map appeared. Harry spread it out and looked over it. Currently it was almost empty, of course, since the students were all on the train, but he could spot the teachers.

'Look, Draco,' he said, pointing out a dot in the dungeons. 'There's Snivellus!'

'Snivellus?' the twins asked in unison.

'It's what my dad and his friends called Severus Snape,' Harry explained.

The twins laughed.

'We'll have to remember that one,' Fred said.

George nodded. 'You two are all right for first years.'

Harry pushed the pile of Galleons towards Fred. 'Here you go,' he said. 'It's been a pleasure doing business with you.'

Fred grinned. 'We may have to do business again sometime.'

'We'll be keeping an eye on you two, Messrs Black and Malfoy.' George stood up, and he and his brother left the compartment. Draco moved over to the seat next to Harry and they both studied the Map.

'For one thing, Aries,' Draco observed, 'we shan't get lost.'

'There are secret passageways, too,' Harry said, indicating several tunnels that led out of the castle. He smirked. 'I think I may like Hogwarts after all.'

'The twins seem all right,' Draco said. 'I almost forgot they were Weasleys.'

'Their grandmother's Cedrella Black,' Harry reminded his cousin. 'Blood will out.'

Draco nodded, then grinned. 'They claim to be the dominant mischief-makers at the school. Do you think we'll be able to top them?'

'Absolutely,' Harry replied, and told Draco about the Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

When they reached the school, Harry and Draco thought at first that they would ride up to the castle with the rest of the students in the carriages pulled by what looked like black winged horses, but instead a very large man called the first-years over to a group of boats.

'That must be Hagrid,' Draco whispered, recalling some of the Marauders' stories. Harry nodded. They climbed into an empty boat, only to be followed by a rather chubby boy clutching a toad and a girl with very bushy hair.

'I do hope we're Sorted soon,' the girl was babbling. 'I can't wait to find out what House I'll be in. Gryffindor sounds like it's by far the best, though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad.'

'I just hope I'm not in Hufflepuff,' the chubby boy said morosely. 'My Gran says that Hufflepuff is for misfits.'

'Well, there has to be some place for the simple people to go, you know, people who aren't brave or clever or ambitious,' the girl said. She was beginning to get on Harry's nerves, and he didn't even know her name yet.

'There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs,' he snapped. 'My Granny was a Hufflepuff, and she's one of the best people in the whole world.'

'She really is,' Draco agreed. 'She's kind to everyone, generous, always cheerful. Great cook, too. Our cousin Dora was a Hufflepuff as well, and she's pretty cool.'

'So if you do wind up in Hufflepuff,' Harry told the chubby boy adamantly, 'wear it with pride, and don't let _anyone_ tell you otherwise.' He glared at the bushy-haired girl.

'Like I said,' she said in an exasperated tone, 'it's good for there to be a House where all the _simple _people can go.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'As opposed to all the prissy swots with their heads up their arses?'

The girl huffed, but fell silent.

'I'm Neville Longbottom,' said the chubby boy. 'This is Hermione Granger.'

The girl harrumphed loudly.

'Longbottom?' Draco mused. 'Any relation to Harfang Longbottom?'

'He was my great-grandfather,' Neville replied.

'So you're a cousin too!' Harry exclaimed. 'I'm Aries Black, and this is my cousin Draco Malfoy.'

'Aries B-black?' Neville stammered. 'Aren't you Sirius Black's son?'

'That's right, and proud of it,' Harry said defiantly.

'I read about him,' Hermione Granger said. 'I heard he was a major follower of You-Know-Who, but got out of prison on a technicality.'

'If she doesn't shut up, I swear to Merlin I'm going to Cruciate her to within an inch of her life,' Harry growled to Draco.

'Can you really do the Cruciatus Curse?' the girl went on. 'I thought it was illegal. I read all about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_.'

Harry's hand crept towards his wand, and Draco decided to intervene. 'So, Granger, eh? Any relation to the Dagworth-Grangers?'

'I'm Muggleborn,' Hermione said brightly. Harry and Draco both groaned.

'Figures,' Harry mumbled.

'What's that supposed to mean?' the girl demanded.

'It's means you really oughtn't to barge into someone else's world and start spouting off on things you don't understand,' Draco said in a superior tone. 'Books are one thing, real life is something else.'

'Probieren geht über Studieren,' Harry added.

'Precisely,' Draco agreed.

'What does that mean?' Hermione asked.

'Go look it up in your books,' Draco said dismissively.

'Or, better yet, go home and leave us alone,' Harry muttered.

They crossed the rest of the lake in a chilly silence.


	20. Part I: Chapter 20

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I wish all my readers and reviewers a peaceful and prosperous New Year! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 20

Hogwarts Castle was simply incredible. Harry and Draco found themselves staring at the Gothic stonework, portraits, suits of armour and tapestries as much as anyone. Truth be told, they felt a bit foolish, gawking at ghosts like any Muggleborn. But even though the two boys had been raised in the wizarding world, Hogwarts seemed to be constantly bursting with surprises, to a level that simply was not the case at Windermere Court or Malfoy Manor.

Professor McGonagall guided the first-years into the toasty warmth of the Great Hall.

'Look at that, Aries,' Draco said in awe, pointing out the enchanted ceiling. 'I wonder how they managed that.'

'It's a very powerful Proscenium Charm,' Hermione Granger said from over his shoulder. 'I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_.'

Harry and Draco shared a dark look, but managed to refrain from making a scene in the Great Hall. McGonagall brought out a very battered old hat and set it on a stool. The hat promptly launched into song.

'That's a clever trick,' Harry whispered to Draco. 'The Vitalitas Charm, do you think?'

Draco nodded. 'That, or maybe a really advanced Ventriloquus.'

'Hush,' Granger hissed. 'We're not supposed to be talking.'

The boys turned around and gave her a vicious glare. She seemed unperturbed.

At length the Sorting Hat finished its song and Professor McGonagall began to call out the names of the new students. Harry was glad that his name came early in the alphabet. Right after 'Abbott, Hannah' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, McGonagall called out, 'Black, Aries.'

Dark muttering erupted as Harry sauntered forward casually, but he was expecting it by now. It was really more annoying than anything else, and Harry decided the best course of action was to ignore it. He strolled over to the stool and plopped the Hat over his head.

'Oh, very interesting,' the Hat muttered. 'Aries Black, is it? Or is it Harry Potter?'

Harry panicked. _You can't tell anyone! It's a secret. They'll send me back to live with the filthy Muggles._

'Don't worry, Mr Potter,' the Hat replied smugly. 'Your secret's safe with me. I am unable to reveal anything I learn from a student's head. My task is simply to Sort you.'

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

'Now, where shall I put you? You're quite bright, but for you learning is simply a means to an end. You take little delight in knowledge for its own sake. I think we can safely rule out Ravenclaw.'

_No surprise there_, Harry chuckled.

'Don't sell yourself short, Mr Potter,' the Hat admonished. 'You would do well just about anywhere.'

_Of course I would_, Harry replied cheekily. _I'm Aries Sirius Black._

'And with that, I think we've ruled out Hufflepuff,' the Hat sighed. 'They're salt-of-the-earth sort of people, humble and hardworking.'

_And very dull._

The Hat laughed. 'You didn't seem to feel that way on the boat.'

_Oh, there's nothing wrong with being dull. Sometimes you want nothing more than a bit of dullness. It's comforting, like hot buttered toast. But I think I'd like a bit of glamour, myself._

'You've thought this out,' the Hat said, impressed.

_Well, my dad has. We've talked about it a bit._

'I see. That leaves Gryffindor and Slytherin. You could be great, you know. It's all right here in your head. Slytherin would certainly help you on the path to greatness.'

_Hmm_, Harry thought. _I don't really know if I want to be great. I know Aunt Cassie's expecting me to be the next Dark Lord and all, but, honestly, I'm great enough as it is. I've got a family that cares about me, enough gold to last me several lifetimes and my dad's good looks. What more does one need?_

'Interesting, Mr Potter,' the Hat replied. 'If you don't want greatness, what do you want?'

Harry grinned. _I just want to have a good time._

The Hat chuckled. 'In that case, Mr Potter, I think I know just the House for you.' The Hat shouted out for all the Hall to hear: 'GRYFFINDOR!'

There was a stunned silence, and then scattered applause broke out. Harry took off the Hat and handed it to McGonagall with a flourish before strolling over to the Gryffindor table and taking a seat. The Weasleys twins were heartily applauding him and moved over so he could sit next to them.

'Well done,' said Fred.

'We can't say we're surprised,' George added.

'At least this way we'll have an opportunity to work more closely together,' suggested Fred.

Harry smirked. 'We'll have to see about that.'

The Sorting continued. Harry groaned when Hermione Granger was Sorted into Gryffindor, but the Muggleborn girl looked very pleased. Neville Longbottom was Sorted into Hufflepuff after all, and Harry pointedly gave him a standing ovation. Neville flashed Harry a grin as he made his way to his table, walking with a bit more confidence than he had before. Shortly afterwards came Draco's turn to be Sorted. The Hat seemed to take a very long time. Harry began to worry, and, from the look on his cousin's face, he thought Draco was worried too. That couldn't be good.

Harry couldn't risk being separated from his cousin. He raised his wand very discreetly and aimed it at the Hat, being careful not to hit Draco.

'_Imperio_,' he whispered in Parseltongue.

Almost immediately, the Hat shouted 'GRYFFINDOR!' in a good strong voice.

There was silence at first, just as when Harry had been Sorted, but Harry stood up on his bench and starting clapping and whooping at the top of his lungs. Fred and George soon joined in, followed by most of the other Gryffindors, along with Neville at the Hufflepuff table. Daphne Greengrass at the Slytherin table started applauding, as well as Pansy Parkinson, who was still waiting in line to be Sorted. In due time, the Hall was roaring in applause for Draco Malfoy, who grinned as he swept off the Hat and gave a little bow before running off to the Gryffindor table.

* * *

Later that evening, in their dormitory, Draco and Harry were changing into their pyjamas when suddenly Draco jumped up in shock.

'A rat!' he said with disgust. 'There's a filthy rat on my bed!'

Aries looked over at Draco's bed. Sure enough, a very fat rat lazed there as though he owned it.

'Don't worry, Draco,' he said. 'I'll take care of it.' He levelled his wand directly at the vermin. '_Extermino_,' he said. The rat shrieked and then expired.

'NO!' Ron shouted. 'You killed my rat!'

'You mean you're the one who put the vermin on my bed?' Draco glared at the red-haired boy. 'It's bad enough having to share a room, but under no circumstances will I permit you to tamper with my bed.'

'It's his pet, you idiot!' Seamus shot back. 'Your fool of a cousin just killed his pet.'

'Oh,' Harry said casually. 'Sorry.'

'You murderer!' Ron roared. 'Scabbers has been in my family for ten years!'

'Don't be stupid,' Draco retorted. 'Rats don't live that long.'

'He has too!' Ron insisted. 'My mum said he wandered into our garden just a couple of days after You-Know-Who vanished. The poor thing was all bloody, too. My brother nursed him back to health, and now he's dead.'

_Ten years? _Harry thought. _A couple of days after the Dark Lord vanished? A rat? Could it possibly be?_ He looked at the rat suspiciously. It was hard to tell, but he supposed it did look a bit like the pictures he had seen of Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form. There was only one way to know for sure.

'You know, Ron, I really am sorry,' Harry said, putting a bit more effort into this apology than he had into the first. 'I didn't know he was your pet. Here, let me offer you some compensation for your loss.' He opened his trunk and got out his gold.

'You disgust me,' Ron spat. 'You think that just because you're rich you can come in here and murder decent people's pets, and that your gold will make it all better. Well, it won't!'

'I'll give you ten Galleons,' Harry offered.

'Weren't you listening to him?' Seamus said. 'Ron doesn't want your bloody Galleons!'

Harry noticed how Ron looked longingly at the gold in his hand.

'Fifteen, then,' Harry said. 'I really am sorry, Ron. Won't you please let me show it?'

'All right,' Ron said grouchily. 'But you have to clean up the mess you made. His guts are all over Malfoy's bed.'

'No problem,' Harry said, and handed over the gold. He Conjured a small box and levitated the rat's corpse inside. He closed the box and placed it in his trunk.

'Don't forget to clean off my bed,' Draco said.

'Right.' Harry cupped his hands to his mouth. 'I need the on-duty Gryffindor Tower elf,' he called out. 'There's a mess in the first-year boys' dormitory.'

A house-elf appeared instantly. He bowed low to Harry.

'How may I serve young master?' he asked.

'Master Draco's bed is soiled,' Harry said crisply. 'Please change it.'

'Yes, Master,' the elf replied eagerly, and promptly removed Draco's bedclothes and replaced them with clean ones.

'Thank you,' Harry said graciously, and the elf bowed before disappearing with a pop.

'That was cheating,' Ron growled. 'I didn't think about getting a house elf to do it.'

Draco laughed. 'Well, surely you didn't expect Aries to clean it himself!' Harry joined in his cousin's laughter, but Ron and Seamus only glared at them sullenly. Draco's features twisted into a mask of horror. 'You did, didn't you?'

Ron shrugged. 'That was always the rule in our house. If you make a mess, you have to clean it up.'

'Same with us,' said Seamus. Both boys looked at Dean Thomas expectantly, who held up his hands and shook his head.

'Keep me out of this one,' he said. 'My mum and stepdad are Muggles. We had the same rule, but I don't know how things work here.'

Harry nodded in approval. 'It takes a good fellow to recognise that he doesn't know something. Keep up that attitude, and you'll do just fine in our world.'

'Better than these cretins, anyway,' Draco said, gesturing toward Ron and Seamus. 'If your mum made you clean up your own messes, what work was there for the house elf to do?'

'We don't have a house elf,' Ron mumbled.

'Neither do we,' Seamus said proudly. 'We do our own chores, divided up fairly between everyone. Me mam says that only stuck-up toffs keep house-elves.'

Harry shrugged. 'Maybe, but at least we never had to do chores.'

'You really didn't have to do anything like that?' Dean asked curiously.

'Well, there was that one time Granny asked us to help her cut vegetables at the chateau,' Harry said fairly.

'But that was because she said it would help us take our minds off the funeral,' Draco pointed out. 'Otherwise she would have had Roquefort do it.'

Ron and Seamus snorted in disgust and pulled their bed curtains tight.

'So, I bet you're glad to be out of the Muggle world,' Harry said to Dean. 'How did your family take it when they found out you were a wizard?'

Dean shrugged. 'All right, I suppose. It was a bit of a surprise for them.' He smiled. 'My stepdad thought it was pretty cool, though.'

'He didn't think you were a...freak?' Harry probed tentatively.

Dean shook his head. 'Of course not.'

'Well, that's all right, then,' Harry replied uncertainly.

'I shouldn't want to live in the Muggle world,' Draco yawned as he climbed into his clean bed. 'I mean, there are some good parts, like pizza and kebabs and sports cars. But I think it would get very tiresome to have to put up with all those explosions and gunfights every day.'

Dean stifled what might have been a chuckle. And with that, the boys dimmed their lights and went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Draco woke Harry very early, before the sun was up.

'Have you forgotten the second rule?' Harry asked groggily.

'We're not at home and you're not Sirius,' Draco retorted. 'Come on, I want to explore a bit with the Map before breakfast.'

Harry dragged himself out of bed and splashed some water on his face. He walked over to his trunk and let out a low hiss. The trunk popped open and Harry retrieved his clothes, the Cloak and the Map.

'A Parseltongue password?' Draco observed once they had left the room. 'Nice.'

'I didn't want Weasley nicking my things in the middle of the night,' Harry replied.

'I had the same thought,' Draco admitted. 'But I just used a simple Blood Charm.'

'No need to make things complex when simple will do the trick,' Harry agreed. Before they left the Common Room, he slipped the Cloak over himself and Draco. The Cloak easily covered them both, and they found they could manoeuvre about the castle quite comfortably. Draco held the Cloak up a bit and Harry opened the Map. Most everyone was still asleep, of course, so the boys devoted their attention to learning their way about the castle. Even with the Map, it wasn't simple. Doors didn't always lead where they should, and staircases had a tendency to move about. If it weren't for the advantage afforded by the Marauder's Map, Draco and Harry felt certain that they would get lost quite easily.

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Draco charmed the suits of armour to swear at passers-by. It was a simple prank, the first one James's portrait had ever taught them, but it felt wrong to let the opportunity pass completely, and the boys had nothing else prepared. They thought it would at least get the new term off to a decent start.

Harry ran upstairs to return the Cloak and Map to his trunk, and collected the rat's corpse. He dashed off a short note to Sirius before making his way up to the Owlery, where he sent Pollux off with the package before heading down to the Great Hall to join Draco for breakfast. Dean Thomas was also at the table.

'What took you so long?' Draco demanded as he piled his plate with sausages.

'I had to send a note to Dad,' Harry explained, and eagerly helped himself to breakfast.

'Everyone was whispering about your dad on the train,' Dean said between mouthfuls of porridge. 'He sounds like a pretty interesting bloke. What's he like?'

'My dad is the coolest wizard in the world,' Harry replied with a smile. 'He's good at everything and loads of fun.'

'The best part is, Uncle Sirius really listens to you,' Draco added. 'You know how parents are sometimes distracted by other things, and just want to get you out of their hair?' Dean nodded. 'Uncle Sirius is never like that,' Draco finished.

Dean chuckled. 'He sounds brilliant. I'd like to meet him.'

'Maybe you'll get a chance sometime,' Harry replied.

The food at Hogwarts wasn't quite up to Mopsy's standard, let alone Granny's, but it was decent enough, and Harry and Draco each polished off a couple of plates worth before heading to their first class.

The boys found their classes disappointing, to say the least. It turned out that Aunt Cassie's standards were rather higher than those of their professors, and both boys were head and shoulders above their classmates. In Astronomy the boys already knew the major constellations and stars, and tended to draw funny looks whenever they exclaimed 'There's Great-Granddad!' or 'There you are!'. Herbology was straightforward enough, though neither Harry nor Draco had any particular zeal for the subject. Harry was pleased, however, when Neville Longbottom decided to sit with them. He seemed to be quite the leader in Hufflepuff, and also had a flair for the subject.

History of Magic was taught by a ghost, and neither Harry nor Draco had any idea how the other students were supposed to learn anything with the mindless way Professor Binns droned on. Aunt Cassie's lessons had been far more interesting, with lots of little anecdotes about Emeric the Evil's third wife or Uric the Oddball's illegitimate offspring.

'How do you reckon the others keep them all straight without the stories?' Draco asked Harry after their first class. Harry could only shrug.

Charms was fun, as both boys could handle most everything in the first-year curriculum, but it didn't prove much of a challenge. Harry and Draco had hoped that perhaps Transfiguration would be more interesting, especially since McGonagall reminded them a bit of Aunt Cassie, but instead they found that they were just changing matches into needles. Naturally, both boys managed on their first try, earning them each a few points for Gryffindor, but the class was not very exciting.

Defence against the Dark Arts was most disappointing of all. They were to study nothing that Aunt Cassie had not covered in their very first year of lessons. Professor Quirrell seemed to be utterly incompetent, constantly afraid of his own shadow. Harry and Draco scoffed at the idea that this buffoon could teach them anything that would be of use against the Dark Arts. To make matters worse, all through the lesson Harry found himself suffering from a severe headache, which was odd, because Harry had never had many headaches before.

'Maybe it's the garlic,' Draco said as they left the classroom.

Harry shook his head. 'I like the smell of garlic. It reminds me of the chateau.'

'Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey,' Draco suggested. He had gone to the hospital wing himself on their first day with a cut, and had become quite fond of the school nurse.

Harry shook his head. 'I'll just wait and see if it passes.'

Fortunately, the headache seemed to pass quickly as soon as they had got away from the classroom, and Harry nearly forgot all about it.

* * *

Since Harry and Draco were so far ahead in all of their classes, they soon discovered that they had an inordinate amount of time at their disposal. Much of that time they dedicated to planning and exercising pranks, of course, but they made sure to spend some time in the library each day, locating new spells and potions, which they would practise in abandoned classrooms. They avoided Gryffindor Tower as much as possible, because Ron and Seamus tended to make trouble.

It was worse for Harry, because he could hardly go anywhere in the school without having people hiss insults at him. 'Death Eater spawn!' and 'Murderer's brat!' were two of the most popular. Thursday afternoon, after Harry's bag had been ripped by a Severing Charm on his way back from class, he hissed a vehement oath in Parseltongue out of sheer fury. Fortunately, the other students seemed to think he was just making incoherent sounds, and ignored him. Draco, however, was quite concerned.

'You really want to watch yourself, Aries,' he told his cousin as they got ready for bed that evening in their empty dormitory. (One side effect of Draco's propensity to wake them up before dawn was that they both tended to go to bed well before their Housemates.) 'If someone finds out about your gift, it will only make things worse for you.'

'It's hard to imagine that things could be any worse,' Harry spat. 'Maybe if they were afraid of me, they'd at least leave me alone.'

Draco rolled his eyes and Banished his pillow towards Harry. Harry flicked his wand and blocked Draco's pillow with his own.

'You shouldn't have done that,' he told his cousin. 'This means war, Malfoy!'

'Die, Black!' Draco roared in response, and the two boys launched into a fully fledged hex war. After ten minutes, Harry was purple with green hair and yellow polka dots, whilst Draco had elephant ears, a poodle tail on his backside and a pair of wildebeest horns growing out of his head.

'I'll kill you for that, Malfoy!' Harry shouted playfully, and fired a squirt of lurid red paint at the blond boy's chest. Draco stared at his 'wound' in feigned shock and fell to the floor.

'You've won this time, Black,' he gasped. 'But Lord Draco the Malevolent shall return!'

At this point, Ron Weasley walked in, just in time to hear Harry's response.

'I think not, Malfoy,' he crowed triumphantly. 'Lord Aries the Black will drink your pure blood from your still throbbing veins!'

Ron screamed and ran downstairs, shouting for all Gryffindor Tower to hear that Aries Black had murdered Draco Malfoy in their dormitory. Needless to say, Professor McGonagall was not amused when she arrived five minutes later to find Harry and Draco, both very much alive, rolling on the floor laughing.

'What is the meaning of this outrage?' she demanded. 'Do you think it amusing to frighten one of your Housemates half to death?'

'Yes, Professor,' Draco said honestly, still laughing.

'In any event, miss,' Harry broke in, giving his cousin a glare, 'we didn't mean to frighten Weasley. We were engaged in a private activity. Weasley came in and jumped to conclusions. He should have ascertained the truth of the matter first.'

McGonagall frowned. 'In that case, Mr Black, you and Mr Malfoy should have run after Mr Weasley and corrected his misapprehension, rather than sitting here laughing like a bunch of hyenas whilst the rest of your House was in an uproar. That will be two points each from Gryffindor. I do not expect to hear any more of this sort of nonsense in the future. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Professor,' Harry and Draco responded glumly. Weasley stood behind McGonagall, any embarrassment he felt at his mistake thoroughly recompensed by the sight of the two boys being scolded.

'Move along to your beds,' McGonagall commanded the large crowd that had gathered on the stairs, and left the room. Draco climbed into his bed and drew the curtains.

'Good night, Draco,' Harry said.

'Sleep tight, Aries,' Draco replied, and within minutes Harry heard the steady breathing that meant his cousin was asleep.

Harry, however, was not ready to go to sleep. He retrieved the mirror Sirius had given him from his trunk before getting into bed. He cast a Silencing Charm on the bed curtains, so as not to bother anyone else.

'Sirius Black,' he said, and within seconds his dad's face appeared in the mirror.

'Hello, son,' he said cheerfully. 'I got your gift. You're absolutely right. I showed him to Moony, and he agrees too. Well done! I think there's a certain poetic justice in your being the one to do the rat in, though I shan't deny that I'm more than a bit envious of you.' He stopped at the expression on Harry's face. 'What's wrong?'

'I hate school,' Harry complained, and for once his dad didn't tell him off for whinging.

'Why? What's the problem?' Sirius asked, concern on his features.

'The lessons are a total waste of time,' Harry began, and the complaints began pouring out of their own volition. 'Half the teachers don't even know what they're on about, and the other students can hardly tell a wand from a broomstick. Everyone in my House hates me, and people are always mumbling behind my back. Today, someone used the Severing Charm to cut open my book bag in the corridor.'

'Is it because of me?' Sirius asked quietly.

Harry didn't want to hurt his dad's feelings, but he knew better than to lie to Sirius. He nodded.

Sirius closed his eyes. 'I'm sorry, Harry.'

'It's not your fault,' Harry mumbled.

'Yes, it is,' Sirius sighed. 'In every possible way. All I can tell you is to hold on, Harry. Things will get better.'

'And if they don't?'

Sirius shrugged. 'Then we'll pull you out and send you to Beauxbatons. Or Moony and I can teach you at home. Just give Hogwarts a year. If you don't want to go back after the summer, we'll work something out.'

'Thanks, Dad,' Harry replied, nearly tearing up from gratitude.

Sirius smiled wickedly. 'Now tell me all about how you killed the rat. I want to hear every gory detail.'

* * *

On Friday morning, Harry and Draco each received a large basket of assorted baked goods, which made them simultaneously the most popular and the most hated boys at the Gryffindor table, as half the students whispered about how spoilt they were and the other half asked them if they could spare an eclair.

Later that morning, they had Double Potions with the Slytherins, which meant they got to see the infamous Professor Snape for the first time. When Harry caught sight of his greasy hair, he smirked.

'Your mum was right,' he whispered to Draco. His cousin chuckled.

Snape began class with calling the roll. When he reached the name 'Aries Black', he muttered, 'Oh, yes. The convict's son.' Harry heard sniggering from all over the room. Most of the Slytherins laughed because Snape was mocking a Gryffindor, whilst Ron and Seamus did so because they didn't like Harry. Harry closed his eyes and mentally counted slowly to one thousand in Latin. He was interrupted just after 'quingenti sexaginta duo' when Snape asked him a sudden question.

'Black! What do you get if you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'

The Granger girl's hand shot automatically into the air. Draco rolled his eyes.

'The first stage of the Draught of Living Death, Professor,' Harry answered automatically.

Snape looked startled, but pressed on. 'Where would you look to find a bezoar?' Granger's hand shot up again.

'The stomach of a goat, sir,' Harry replied.

'What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?' Granger's hand was still up.

Harry yawned. 'Nothing, sir. They're just two different names for aconite.'

Draco sniggered, but Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously.

'Very well, Mr Black,' he said silkily, 'since you seem to consider yourself such a Potions expert, perhaps you could tell me the principal ingredients for the Regeneration Potion.'

Granger slowly lowered her hand. Harry paused. Aunt Cassie had never taught them that potion. Harry suspected it was a very advanced potion, which Snape was using in an attempt to humiliate him in front of the entire class. Harry refused to let that happen. He thought very hard, consciously reaching for the part of his mind he used to speak Parseltongue.

_How do I make Regeneration Potion?_ he thought with a mental hiss. There was a sudden stabbing pain in his forehead, but the answer came to him.

'Bone of the father,' he whispered in an oddly high voice, 'unknowingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed. Blood of the enemy...'

'That's quite enough, Mr Black,' Snape interrupted. His skin was deathly white. 'Ten points from Gryffindor for knowing such Dark magic.'

'That's not fair!' Draco protested. 'You shouldn't have asked the question if you didn't want it answered!'

'That's another ten points, Mr Malfoy,' Snape said silkily. 'If I hear another word out of either of you, it will be detention for you both.'

The cousins kept quiet for the remainder of the lesson, but they glared unblinkingly at Snape with such hatred that even the normally unflappable Potions master felt somewhat uneasy. When he found scorpions in his bed that night, he had no doubt who was to blame.


	21. Part I: Chapter 21

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 21

The next morning, Draco woke Harry up early as usual, even though it was Saturday. Harry did not feel at all like getting up yet. He had dreamt very strange dreams all night long, and felt as though he had hardly slept a wink. To top it all off, this morning he had a splitting headache.

'Go away, Draco,' he moaned.

'We're supposed to explore the third-floor corridor today,' Draco reminded him. Harry put his pillow over his head. 'Don't you remember?' Draco pressed. 'At the opening feast, Dumbledore said it was out of limits to everyone who did not wish to die a most painful death. Come on!'

Harry sighed. That _had_ sounded too interesting to ignore. He reluctantly got out of bed, and a few minutes later he and Draco were heading out the door of Gryffindor Tower. They hid under the Cloak and made their way towards the third floor. Draco kept watch over the Map. They passed by a few other early risers on the way, but mostly the coast was clear. Once they reached the third floor, however, they found two teachers blocking their path: Snape and McGonagall. The boys froze.

'The last of the protections is in place,' Snape said quietly. 'The Stone should be secure, though I do question the wisdom of hiding such a powerful magical object in a school. I fully expect the Weasley twins to find their way in here before the year is out.'

McGonagall nodded. 'James Potter and Sirius Black would have broken into the corridor within a week.' She sighed. 'Nonetheless, I am sure Albus and Flamel have their reasons.'

The two teachers walked off in the opposite direction from Harry and Draco. The cousins shared a significant look.

'Do you think she meant Nicolas Flamel, the famous alchemist?' Draco asked.

Harry nodded. 'Who else could it be? And they mentioned a Stone.' He could barely contain his excitement. 'Draco, do you really think there's a Philosopher's Stone hidden here at Hogwarts?'

'It seems a likely explanation,' Draco agreed.

'Do you realise what this means?' Harry's expression was ecstatic. 'If we had the Philosopher's Stone, we could brew the Elixir of Life. No one we care about would ever have to die again!'

Draco furrowed his brow. 'Do you really think that's a good idea, Aries? Granny said that your great-grandfather was ready to go.'

'Maybe, but Great-Granddad wasn't,' Harry shot back. 'Besides, at least this way we have a choice. Come on, Draco. This would be the caper of a century.'

Draco let out a deep breath, then smiled. 'I have to admit, it would be pretty cool for us to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Not to use it, mind you. Just to say we'd done it.'

'It's settled then?' Harry asked.

Draco nodded. 'Before the end of the year we'll steal the Philosopher's Stone.'

Harry gave his trademark smirk, and mischief shone in his blue eyes.

'In that case,' he said, 'we had best see what we're up against.'

The boys crept over to the door that led to the third-floor corridor. It was locked, of course, but a simple _Alohomora_ let them in. On the other side they encountered an enormous dog with three monstrous heads. They crept a bit further in, counting on the Cloak to hide them from the beast, but the Cloak could not hide their scent, and the giant dog went mad, all three heads gnashing their very large teeth in the boys' direction. The boys dashed out the door as quickly as they could, but not before Draco noticed that the dog was standing on a trapdoor.

'All right, so we have some research to do first,' Harry panted once they were safely in the corridor.

* * *

As it happened, as intriguing as the prospect of researching three-headed dogs was, Harry and Draco soon found themselves distracted by other things. An announcement appeared on the Gryffindor notice board on Sunday, indicating that flying lessons were to be held for first years during the second week, as well as Quidditch tryouts for the older students.

'Flying lessons should be a laugh,' Draco said. 'We've both been flying since we were six.'

Harry snorted. 'I have no intention of going to their damn flying lessons,' he said. 'I'm trying out for Quidditch. It says here that they're looking especially for Chasers and a Seeker.'

'Fancy trying out for Quidditch, Aries?' Fred Weasley said behind them.

'Hate to break it to you, mate, but first years aren't allowed on the team,' George added.

Harry laughed. 'They haven't seen me fly yet.'

Fred and George gave him a sceptical look, but Harry's brazen confidence did not waver in the slightest. George turned to Draco.

'Is he really that good?' he asked.

Draco smirked. 'It depends on the position. He's a mediocre Keeper and, his parentage aside, only a so-so Beater. But he's a good Chaser, and Granddad says that Aries is one of the best Seekers he's ever seen.'

Fred and George flashed an eager grin at one another.

'Aries, why don't you come out to the Quidditch pitch with us this afternoon?' Fred said. 'We'll try you out.'

'If you're as good as you say, we'll put in a word for you with Wood,' George added.

'He's team captain,' Fred clarified. 'We've been on the team since last year.'

'What about you, Draco?' George asked. 'Are you as good as Aries is?'

Draco sighed. 'No,' he replied honestly. 'I think I'm pretty good for a first year, but Aries really is ready to play now, especially if you need a Seeker.'

That afternoon, Harry accompanied the Weasley twins to the Quidditch pitch. Draco tagged along just to watch. George loaned Harry his Cleansweep Five and Fred released a Snitch that they had got a hold of somewhere. Within seconds Harry was off, swooping and dipping through the air as easily as if he had been born on a broomstick. It felt good to be back in the air.

He circled the pitch a couple of times, and then caught sight of the Snitch hovering behind Fred Weasley's ear. He dove right towards the twin and pulled up at the last second, handily catching the Snitch without even grazing Fred. Harry landed, and the twins looked like Christmas had come early.

'Wood is definitely going to want to see this,' George said, and ran off to find the Gryffindor Quiddditch captain. He returned a few minutes later with a burly fifth-year, who looked more than a bit put out at having been dragged all this way to see some first-year 'play around on a broomstick.' His expression shifted to one of ineffable delight, however, when he saw Harry fly.

'I'll speak with McGonagall immediately!' he exclaimed. 'I'm sure she'll let us bend the rule about first-years having brooms.' He rubbed his hands in glee. 'We might just win the Quidditch Cup this year. Do you have a broomstick already?'

'A Comet Two-Sixty,' Harry replied.

'Not bad,' Wood nodded. 'Write home as soon as you can and get them to send it to you. I'll be sure to have your permission from McGonagall before it gets here.'

'Do you really think she'll give in?' Harry asked. His impression of the elderly witch had been that she was a stickler for the rules.

Wood chuckled. 'She'll give in all right. McGonagall's a bit of a Quidditch fanatic. She'll do nearly anything to help us win.'

Sure enough, Harry received a note from McGonagall during supper, excusing him from flying lessons as well as authorising him to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker and to obtain a broomstick from home. Harry ran up to the dormitory as soon as he was done eating and contacted Sirius using the mirror.

'What's new, Aries?' Sirius asked.

Harry grinned. 'You'll never believe it, Dad. I've been made Gryffindor Seeker.'

Sirius's eyes went as wide as saucers. 'During your first year? That's incredible. It must be some sort of record.'

'Youngest House player in a century,' Harry replied. He heard a delighted shout from the other side of the mirror.

'Give me that, my boy,' Abraxas's voice said roughly, and soon his face replaced Sirius's in the mirror. 'Did I hear right, Aries? Youngest House player in a century?'

'That's right, Granddad. Gryffindor Seeker in my first year.'

'At least share, Dad,' Sirius protested off the side of the mirror, and soon his face joined his father-in-law's.

'Anyway, I've been told to ask you to send my broom from home,' Harry continued.

'I don't think so, Aries,' Sirius said wryly. 'An occasion like this definitely merits a new broom.'

'A Nimbus 2000, I should think,' Abraxas mused. 'It's the fastest thing on the market right now.'

'Actually, as Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,' Sirius continued in an artificial drawl, 'I think that buying just one new broom is a bit beneath our dignity. What brooms do the other team members have?'

'I'm not sure,' Harry replied. 'The Beaters are on Cleansweep Fives.'

'Great Merlin!' Abraxas shouted in horror. 'We shall have to remedy that, and quickly.'

Harry laughed. 'You do remember we're talking about the Gryffindor team, right, Granddad?'

Abraxas wrinkled his nose. 'I've conveniently forgotten that little detail, Aries. For now, I shall only remember that we're talking about my grandsons' House team.'

Sirius clapped his father-in-law heartily on the back. 'I knew you'd come around eventually, Dad.'

'Don't push your luck, Sirius,' Abraxas warned, but he was smiling.

'Find out the names of all the team members and let me know as soon as you can,' Sirius said.

'Why?' Harry asked.

'I want to give the brooms to the players personally, not the school,' Sirius explained.

Abraxas raised an eyebrow. 'Rather generous of you, isn't it?'

Sirius shrugged. 'If we give them to the school, there's a chance Dumbledore will redistribute them amongst the other teams in the interest of fair play. This way we can make sure that only the people we want to have them will have them.'

'Very Slytherin thinking, my boy,' Abraxas replied with an approving nod. 'I always knew you were one of us.'

* * *

On Sunday evening, Lucius Malfoy was sitting in his study, going through his correspondence and sipping a glass of sherry. His father was at Windermere Court with Sirius Black, the son he never had, poring over broom reviews in _Quintessential Quidditch_. Narcissa, meanwhile, was at Grimmauld Place visiting with her mother and grandmother. Lucius had the house to himself, and to be perfectly honest, he rather appreciated the quiet.

The study door opened and Dobby stepped in.

'Professor Severus Snape, Master Lucius,' he announced, and the hook-nosed Potions master entered the room, raindrops scattering from his woollen cloak.

'Good evening, Severus,' Lucius said graciously, and indicated a comfortable armchair to his right. 'Please have a seat. Would you care for a glass of sherry?'

'Thank you, Lucius,' Snape said, and sat down. Lucius poured his guest a glass and handed it over.

'To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?' the blond wizard asked.

Snape's nostrils flared. 'I trust you have heard of the little incident we had in Potions on Friday?'

Lucius looked at his guest curiously. It was most unlike Severus to come all the way from Scotland just to discuss a matter of school discipline. He nodded.

'I have heard something,' he said. 'I heard that Aries answered one of your questions correctly and you removed points for his knowing Dark magic.'

Snape narrowed his eyes. 'It is necessary for us to maintain appearances. I cannot be seen to encourage any student in the study of the Dark Arts. If Dumbledore...'

Lucius held up his hand. 'I understand, Severus. Though my father might ask why, if you were so keen to maintain appearances, you asked such a question in the first place.'

'Black answered all my questions correctly,' Snape replied evenly. 'It is not healthy for boys never to get answers wrong. They become big-headed. I simply selected the most difficult potion I knew. I did not expect the brat to know the answer.'

Lucius chuckled. 'You cannot fool me, Severus. I know your real motivations. You have my blessing to bait Aries Black as much as you wish. Merlin knows he needs to be cut down to size.' He frowned. 'I do wish, however, that you had not deemed it necessary to drag Draco into the whole affair.'

'Draco challenged my authority in my own classroom,' Snape said. 'I doubt very much that you would tolerate such insubordination here, and I will not tolerate at school.'

'You must do as you think best of course,' Lucius said nonchalantly, but the look in his eyes was lethal. 'It would, however, be prudent for you to remember that, despite the unfortunate mishap with his Sorting, Draco is still _my _son.'

'I shan't forget it, Lucius.'

'See that you don't.' The elder wizard took a sip of sherry. 'Now, Severus, is this really the reason you have come all this way to see me?'

Snape shook his head. 'I wanted to know how it was that Aries Black knew the ingredients of the Regeneration Potion.'

Lucius frowned. 'Was that the potion you asked him about? I'm afraid I've never heard of it.'

'My point exactly,' Snape replied. 'Very few people have. It is devilishly difficult to get right, and it is amongst the Darkest magic that I have ever encountered. Could Cassiopeia Black have taught it to the boys?'

'No,' Lucius said. 'I have kept a close eye on their curriculum, and she has taught them nothing I do not know myself.'

'How then would Aries have encountered it? Might Sirius Black...?'

'Sirius Black is an arrogant playboy,' Lucius replied. 'He has no room for anything in his head but jokes and Quidditch. In that respect he makes rather an excellent playmate for my father.' He paused. 'Aries has demonstrated a curious affinity for the Dark Arts. I have often heard Cassiopeia wax lyrical about his strange capacity to master any Dark spell almost effortlessly. I suspect that the boy must have read about the potion in some book.'

'It is curious that the boy would display such a particular aptitude at such an early age,' Snape observed.

Lucius smiled. 'I shouldn't fret so much about the boy's advanced knowledge if I were you, Severus. Aries has much more interesting secrets.'

The Potions master raised an eyebrow. 'What sort of secrets?'

'Tut, tut, Severus,' Lucius scolded mockingly before taking another sip of sherry. 'I may not care for the boy, but he's still family. I shan't reveal everything to you. Let's just say that Aries possesses some unique and extraordinary gifts. I fully expect that his future will prove most...diverting.'

* * *

Towards the end of the following week, seven long, thin packages were delivered to the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Oliver Wood nearly fainted when he saw the note on his.

_Dear Mr Wood,_

_Best of luck on winning the Quidditch Cup this year! We hope this might help a bit. It's your very own brand-new Nimbus 2000. Use it well!_

_Cordially yours,_

_Sirius Black, Gryffindor Beater, 1973-1978  
Abraxas Malfoy, Slytherin Chaser, 1937-1943, Team Captain, 1938-1943_

Every member of the team received the same broom and basically the same note, except for Harry. His note read as follows:

_Dear Aries,_

_Granddad used his connexions at the Nimbus Racing Broom Company to get you a fully working prototype of the Nimbus 2001, which won't be entering the market until next year. We have both tested it - for safety reasons, naturally - and we are pleased to report that it flies beautifully and is a good bit better than the 2000 model. If there are any problems, let us know and we can replace it immediately._

_Affectionately yours,_

_Dad and Granddad_

After Potions, Harry and Draco ran up as quickly as they could to their dormitory in order to examine the new broom.

'It's beautiful, Aries,' Draco exclaimed, lightly caressing the wood with his fingers.

'You're not allowed to have a broomstick, Black,' Ron scoffed. 'You'll get in trouble.'

'I've got special permission from McGonagall, Weasley,' Harry replied evenly.

Ron snorted. 'Figures. That what you Death Eaters do, isn't it? Your dad bought his way out of Azkaban, and now he's bought you a broomstick, even though it's against the rules.'

Fred and George walked in, carrying their own new broomsticks over their shoulders.

'Lay off it, Ronniekins,' Fred said. 'Aries is cool.'

'Be sure to thank your dad and granddad from us,' George added.

Harry smiled. 'I'll pass it on.'

'Wood told us to let you know he's scheduled practice for this evening, so we can all get used to our new brooms,' Fred said.

'I'll be there,' Harry replied with a nod.

'You're on the Quidditch team, too?' Ron moaned. 'In your first year? I hate you.'

* * *

Whilst his cousin was occupied at Quidditch practice, Draco decided to go to the library in order to begin researching three-headed dogs, and pored through several musty old tomes in the hope of finding some clue. Some three-headed dogs were described as having a mane of serpents, and Draco wondered briefly whether his cousin's Parseltongue ability might help them to get past the dog, but he couldn't remember having seen any serpents on this dog, nor had he heard any hissing. Hercules, for his part, had supposedly got past a three-headed dog by wearing a magical lion skin that protected him from the dog's bite whilst he wrestled it into submission, but the boys hadn't any magical lion skins, and Draco thought that, even if they had, they would hardly be able to wrestle the monster.

Granger, the Muggle girl, was also in the library, studying—she didn't seem to have made any friends at school, and spent most of her time amongst the books. She looked miserable, but Draco had a hard time feeling sorry for her. If the Muggle wanted friends, she should try not to be such an insufferable know-it-all.

Draco's eyes were beginning to blur from fatigue, and he was nearly ready to call it a night. However, he forced himself to try one more book, and opened a thick leather-bound volume. He found what he was looking for on the first page.

'Eureka!' he exclaimed loudly, earning him a disapproving stare from Madam Pince and a curious look from Granger. The blond boy was astounded that he had not thought of it before. It seemed so obvious now. He re-shelved the books with a flick of his wand and ran back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Harry whistled as he walked back up to the castle from Quidditch practice. For the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, he felt as though he belonged. Wood and the rest of the team had been ecstatic about his family's donation, and everyone had been thrilled to see how well Harry could fly. He made his way up to his dormitory and found Draco in bed, already wearing his pyjamas.

'How was practice?' he asked.

Harry changed out of his Quidditch robes. 'It was wicked! You should have come.'

Draco shook his head. 'No thanks. I love Quidditch as much as anyone, but coming to practice is a bit much if I'm not even on the team.'

Harry pulled on his pyjamas and sat down on his own bed. He frowned. 'Do you mind that I made the team?'

'Why should I mind?'

'Well, you're a good Quidditch player too,' Harry said. 'It's not fair that you should have to take flying lessons with everyone else. And it would be nice if you could play.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Believe it or not, Aries, there is more to life than Quidditch. Like stealing the Philosopher's Stone.'

Ron walked into the dormitory and the boys switched to French.

'Qu'est-ce que tu as découvert? _[What have you found out?]_' Harry asked. Ron muttered darkly as he searched for his jumper.

'Tu te souviens d'Orphée? _[Do you remember about Orpheus?]_'

'Bien sûr _[Of course],_' Harry replied.

'Pourquoi Cerbère l'a laissé entrer l'Enfer? _[Why did Cerberus let him into Hell?]_' Draco replied smugly. Ron grabbed his jumper and left the dormitory, growling about 'ruddy foreigners'.

Harry grinned widely. 'You mean we have to sing to it?'

His cousin nodded.

'But that's so simple!' Harry exclaimed. 'I should have thought of it myself.'

'You were too busy thinking about broomsticks and Quidditch glory,' Draco retorted. 'Someone had to keep the important things in mind.'

Harry laughed. 'Whatever should I do without you, Draco?'

'I shudder to think,' the blond boy replied primly as he crawled into bed.


	22. Part I: Chapter 22

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I'm glad to see so many people enjoying the fruits of my labour. Alas, I shall be very busy with my real-world labour for the next few days, and shan't be able to update again until Sunday. I hope you enjoy this installment!**

* * *

Chapter 22

Harry wanted to go back to the third-floor corridor the very next morning in order to test their discovery, but Draco put his foot down.

'If a hell-hound is the first obstacle, the others are bound to be worse,' he pointed out reasonably.

'All the more reason for us to check them out,' Harry argued. 'We can find out what each obstacle is and then come back and research them.'

Draco shook his head. 'And what will you do when we run into an obstacle that kills us before we can get out of there?'

Harry pouted. 'So you're giving up then?'

His cousin took grave offence at that. 'What do you take me for, Aries? I just want to make sure we have a few more tricks up our sleeves before we go barging in where angels fear to tread.'

Harry reluctantly conceded that Draco had a point with that, and agreed to wait awhile. Their school work was still very straightforward, so they used their extra time to research spells that might help them get through whatever obstacles were guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Between that and homework - and Quidditch practice for Harry - they kept pretty busy over the next few weeks, though they still managed to find time for a few pranks here and there. They still did not get on particularly well with Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan, but the influence of the Weasley twins and the rest of the Quidditch team meant that the other Gryffindors began to be much friendlier with both boys. After a few well-aimed hexes in the corridors, Harry and Draco established something of a reputation amongst the other Houses as well, and soon even the Slytherins did their best to avoid them.

As for the professors, most were delighted with their high level of achievement. Severus Snape was the sole exception. He never hid his obvious dislike for Harry, and generally did his best to ignore him, except to glare at him darkly from time to time. If he wanted to tell Harry something in class, he almost always addressed Draco, which amused both boys greatly.

With the end of October came Halloween, and the grand Halloween feast. Halloween celebrations in the Black family home had been muted, to say the least. Marius and Clytemnestra had thought it indecent to celebrate the anniversary of the Potters' deaths with Harry, and had always found some pretext to avoid it. Sirius had done nothing to alter that tradition, choosing instead to spend the entire day locked in his bedroom with a few bottles of firewhisky the year before. As for the Malfoys, they too avoided Halloween celebrations, if for rather a different reason: for them, the holiday marked the defeat of the Dark Lord.

The school, however, was very much in a mood to celebrate, and Harry and Draco found themselves caught up in the general excitement. The food was excellent, as always. Harry particularly enjoyed the roast beef, whilst Draco savoured the stuffed turkey. They sat with Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins, much as they always did, and plotted their first joint prank, to take place immediately before the Christmas holidays.

About half an hour into the feast, Quirrell burst in, causing a bit of an uproar.

'There's a troll,' he stammered. 'In the dungeons.' Having delivered his message, he promptly fainted.

The Hall exploded with terror, and Dumbledore struggled to calm the students down. Harry and Draco, however, grinned at each other in mutual understanding. They thought having a troll loose in the castle was simply wicked. The prefects gathered the students to send them back to their dormitories. The cousins, however, held back with one accord, and slipped into a side corridor. They couldn't let an opportunity like this pass them by.

'How do you suppose we kill a mountain troll?' Draco asked Harry as they ran past a series of locked doors.

'Blasting Curse?' Harry suggested.

Draco shook his head. 'Their skin is awfully tough. How about the Disintegration Hex?'

'That won't work either,' Harry replied with a frown. 'It only works on inanimate objects.' He paused. 'I think the Blood-Boiling Curse is the best option.'

Draco nodded. 'We haven't learnt the Killing Curse yet.'

They turned a corner and found themselves directly in the path of a monstrous troll. It roared when it saw them, troll spit flinging everywhere, and raised its club.

Draco aimed his wand. '_Sanguiferveo!_' he shouted. His curse hit it target, but seemed only to succeed in making the troll angrier. Harry lifted his own wand.

'_SANGUIFERVEO!_' he cried. This time the troll stopped momentarily and hissed in pain, but after less than a minute he raised his club again to attack Draco. Harry drew up all his strength and focus, and cast the spell again, this time hissing it in Parseltongue.

The troll roared in agony and fell to its massive knees, shaking the whole corridor. Harry kept his wand trained on the monster as red vapour continued to rise from all its pores. After thirty seconds, the vapour ceased, and the troll collapsed to the floor.

At just that moment, Professor Snape came round the corner at the far side of the corridor, accompanied by Professor McGonagall and Professor Quirrell.

'Malfoy!' he called out angrily. 'What are you two doing out here? You're supposed to be in your dormitory.'

Harry smiled widely. 'We went looking for the troll, sir,' he replied.

'You foolish children!' McGonagall snapped. 'Have you any idea of the danger you were in?'

Draco gestured at the troll's corpse. 'I think we managed all right.'

The teachers stopped and looked at the troll's body. Quirrell looked as though he was going to be sick, but Snape walked right over to the troll and cast a number of diagnostic spells.

'It's dead,' he said in surprise.

'Dead?' McGonagall was stunned. She turned to the boys. 'How did you two manage to kill a twelve-foot mountain troll?'

Harry shrugged. 'The Blood-Boiling Curse, Professor.'

Snape's eyes darted to the black-haired boy in shock. 'The Blood-Boiling Curse is very Dark magic, Black.'

'Is it, sir?' Harry replied innocently. 'It seemed quite effective.'

McGonagall looked flustered for a moment, but quickly recovered her composure.

'Not many first-years could handle a mountain troll on their own,' she said. 'I still say you should have done as you were told, but I am awarding five points each to Gryffindor. Now run off to your Common Room. Students will be finishing the feast in their Houses.'

Harry and Draco nodded and ran back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as they could, Snape watching them suspiciously as they left. No one noticed a red-eyed Hermione Granger hiding behind a suit of armour, a suspicious frown on her face.

* * *

Early November brought the first Quidditch match of the year. It was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and the entire school was bursting with excitement. On the morning of the match, Harry ate a hearty breakfast before walking over to the Quidditch pitch. He changed into his robes and grabbed his broom, and then joined the others for Wood's pep talk before heading out.

Harry relished the feel of the wind in his long hair as he soared into the air. His eyes quickly darted towards the stands, where he saw Draco watching eagerly. Harry's heart leapt when he saw who was sitting beside his cousin: a tall, good-looking man in Gryffindor Quidditch robes and a distinguished older man in a set of very old Slytherin Quidditch robes. It was Sirius and Abraxas. Harry laughed aloud, and did a couple of flips on his broomstick.

The game began. The Gryffindor team was really quite good, and the Slytherin team wasn't bad either, though it seemed to be built largely on the basis of brute strength rather than fine skill. Harry soared high above the crowd and watched for the Snitch. He saw it about half-an-hour into the game and dove for it at maximum speed. Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, realised too late what had happened, and tried to race for it, but Harry was too fast. His hand clasped tightly around the Snitch, and Gryffindor won the game – 220-60.

The spectators erupted in applause and Harry flew high above the crowd, holding the Snitch triumphantly above his head. Sirius, Abraxas and Draco were on their feet, clapping and roaring at the top of their lungs.

'ARIES BLACK! ARIES BLACK!' they chanted, and soon the rest of the Gryffindors joined in, followed by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The Slytherins, of course, looked sour at having been defeated, but they had noticed Sirius's presence, and seemed afraid to express their displeasure too severely in the presence of the man whom everyone knew to have been the Dark Lord's number-one henchman.

Harry landed, and was immediately surrounded by the rest of the team.

'That was brilliant, Aries!' Wood crowed. 'Keep this up, and the Quidditch Cup is ours for certain.'

Fred and George clapped him on the back. 'We knew you had it in you,' George said.

'Best discovery we ever made,' Fred added.

Angelina smiled. 'The new brooms don't hurt, either. Thank your dad and granddad for us.'

'Thank them yourself.' Harry grinned. 'Here they come.'

The team turned around. Draco was leading the way onto the Quidditch pitch, followed closely by Sirius and Abraxas.

'Well done, my lads!' Abraxas shouted. 'And lasses,' he added a bit sheepishly, when he saw the girls' glare. 'I think the Quidditch Cup has our name on it this year.'

'Our name?' Sirius smirked. 'What colour are your robes again?'

Abraxas rolled his eyes and waved his wand. His old Quidditch robes changed to red and gold.

Sirius nodded in approval. 'That's much better.'

'Thank you so much for our brooms, Mr Black and Mr Malfoy,' Wood said.

'Don't mention it, my boy,' Abraxas said. 'Just a small token of our esteem.'

Sirius's eyes gleamed. 'We consider them an investment, and we expect to reap abundant dividends.'

Draco laughed at Wood's confused expression. 'He means he expects seven Quidditch Cups in a row from Gryffindor.'

Abraxas tousled Draco's hair. 'You'll want to keep an eye on this one, Mr Wood,' he said. 'Draco is an excellent Keeper. You might want to groom him as your successor.'

'Not to mention he's a good backup player for just about any position,' Sirius added. 'Just in case someone falls ill.'

'Except Beater,' Harry interjected. 'He's pants at that.'

'True,' Sirius admitted, patting Harry's shoulder fondly. 'But so are you.'

Harry grinned. 'I never pretended otherwise.'

Abraxas put his strong arms around both of his grandsons. 'By the way,' he said, 'I should like to extend an invitation for all of you to attend a Gryffindor team party at Malfoy Manor over the Christmas holiday. I shall owl you with the details.'

'I'll bring the firewhisky,' Sirius said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

A silky voice broke into the conversation. 'How very like you, Black, to enable illegal behaviour amongst the younger generation.'

Sirius did not even turn to look at Snape. 'Oh, Snivellus,' he said carelessly.

'Snivellus?' Abraxas repeated, and then turned to look at the Potions master. 'Oh yes, the half-blood.' He wrinkled his nose. 'Indeed, Sirius, I believe Narcissa was quite right.'

Harry and Draco sniggered.

'Is there a reason, Mr Snape, that you have intruded into our private conversation?' Abraxas demanded.

'I only wished to congratulate the Gryffindor team on their victory,' Snape replied icily.

'What do you think of my grandsons?' Abraxas went on. 'Surely you have been impressed by their considerable talent?'

'The boys are competent potion-brewers, Mr Malfoy,' Snape said dully.

'Indeed they are, Mr Snape, amongst other things.' Abraxas looked Snape directly into his black eyes. 'In fact, you might find some of their other talents most intriguing. Aries and Draco are very gifted wizards.' He leaned forwards. 'As am I, Mr Snape, and, to be sure, as is my distinguished son-in-law. You would do well to remember that.'

Snape frowned. 'Thank you for the warning, Mr Malfoy.'

'That wasn't a warning, Snivellus,' Sirius interjected. 'That was a threat.'

Snape glared at both men before nodding curtly and walking away.

'My, what an unpleasant fellow,' Abraxas murmured. 'It's a pity you children have to study Potions with him. It's a wonder anyone can learn anything with him looming about. In my day, and in Sirius's as well, we had Professor Slughorn. A marvellous potioneer, and a good friend of mine. It's a shame he retired.'

'Anyway, you lot have a victory party to attend,' Sirius said. 'Don't let us hold you up. Well done, and we hope to see you all at the Christmas party.'

Sirius and Abraxas bade them all farewell, and the team trudged back up to the castle for the victory party.

* * *

Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan slipped out of the Common Room after curfew and followed the directions on the note they had been given. After ten minutes they arrived at a remote, no-longer-used classroom. Hermione Granger was waiting for them.

'What's this about, Granger?' Seamus yawned. 'I want to get some shut-eye.'

'Which is more important, Finnegan?' she scolded the boy. 'Getting some sleep or stopping Aries Black?'

Ron's ears perked up. 'What do you mean about stopping Black? What's he up to?'

Hermione groaned. 'Isn't it obvious? The son of the second-most-feared wizard in all Britain comes to Hogwarts and is Sorted into Gryffindor. He uses his family money to buy himself friends, and he's even earning House points for practising Dark magic.'

Ron frowned. 'I don't follow you.'

Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. 'I think Aries Black is trying to infiltrate Gryffindor. I think he wants to be the next You-Know-Who.'

'The next You-Know-Who?' Ron scoffed. 'Are you mad?

Hermione ignored him. 'I've been spending a lot of time with Hagrid, and he let slip that Dumbledore is hiding something in the school, something very powerful. I don't know what it is, but I bet Black is trying to steal it, in order to help him rise to power.'

Seamus paused, then nodded. 'That does make some sense. Black and Malfoy are always sneaking around. The other day, I woke up to find them coming into the dormitory at six in the morning.'

'They keep a lot of secrets too,' Ron conceded. 'Whenever I walk in on them they switch to some other language, like they don't want me to know what they're on about.'

Hermione sat pensively. 'We should start following Black and Malfoy around. That needn't be too difficult, as we all have the same class schedule.'

'I don't know about that,' Ron said reluctantly. 'They get up awfully early.'

Hermione glared at him. 'Then you'll just have to get up earlier.'

'Don't you think you're taking this a bit far?' Seamus asked.

'Don't you two get it?' Hermione snapped. 'Haven't you heard what it was like when You-Know-Who was around? Black wants to bring back those times.'

'We're just kids,' Ron protested.

'And imagine how things might have been different if a bunch of students had taken things into their own hands when You-Know-Who was in school,' Hermione pressed.

Both boys nodded reluctantly.

'What did you have in mind exactly?' Ron asked.

'First of all, I think we need to figure out what Dumbledore is guarding,' Hermione said. 'I bet it has something to do with the third-floor corridor.'

'The one that's forbidden?' Seamus asked.

Hermione nodded grimly. 'I think we need to find out what's behind that door.'

* * *

A couple of weeks before the end of term, McGonagall collected the names of students who would be staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Harry and Draco both scoffed at the idea that anyone would want to do such a silly thing, and were surprised when they saw Fred and George queuing up to put their names down.

'Aren't you going home for Christmas?' Draco asked.

Fred shook his head. 'Our mum and dad are going to see our brother Charlie in Romania.'

'Well, you can't very well stay here!' Harry protested. 'All alone in this draughty castle on Christmas? You're coming home with us.'

George raised his eyebrows. 'You can't be serious?'

'Why not?' Draco said. 'I'm sure either his dad or my granddad will be happy to have you over. We'll have loads of fun.'

Fred and George gave each other a look. They sighed simultaneously.

'We'd really like to,' Fred began.

'We definitely appreciate it,' George added.

'But we can't just leave...' Fred continued, but was suddenly interrupted when Ron barged between them.

'You're holding up the queue, you idiots,' he growled at his brothers before going over and adding his name to McGonagall's list.

Fred and George shared another look and then turned with one accord to Harry and Draco.

'On second thought,' George said. 'We'd be absolutely delighted to join you for Christmas.'

Harry and Draco both grinned at that.

'Excellent,' Harry said. 'I'll let Dad know.'

* * *

Two days before the start of the Christmas holidays, the twins, the cousins, Lee and Dean launched their enormous prank. It began with lunch in the Great Hall, as each person who entered without saying the appropriate password had their hair turned either red or green. It was specifically designed so that Ravenclaws and Slytherins got red hair, whilst Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs got green hair, which had taken quite a bit of clever spellwork.

The tables, meanwhile, had been charmed to break out into loud, off-key Christmas carols each time someone said the word 'Christmas'. They had enchanted the Christmas trees to applaud whenever anyone mentioned Professor McGonagall, or else to boo and heckle whenever someone mentioned Professor Snape.

That alone would have merited recognition as the prank of the decade, and certainly produced a fair amount of merry uproar amongst the student body, along with a good bit of annoyance amongst the teachers. Lee and Dean were both more than satisfied with the accomplishment, and determined to sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labours. But the twins and the cousins were equally determined not to be outclassed by each other, and kept pushing the boundaries of what was possible. All day Sunday, fireworks exploded in the corridors, gargoyles sang and students' hair kept changing colour. Harry and Draco enchanted the suits of armour to insult the students in English, the teachers in Latin and the Headmaster in classical Arabic, whilst Fred and George adorned every portrait in the school with artfully arranged and festively coloured toilet paper.

The crowning achievement came late Sunday night, when Harry and Draco managed to Stupefy Mrs Norris, sneak into the Sytherin Common Room with the Invisibility Cloak and Spellotape the wicked old cat to the chandelier. When they reported their success to the twins on the train the next day, the Weasley boys reluctantly acknowledged that they had finally met their match.


	23. Part I: Chapter 23

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I'm a bit behind on replying to them, for which I apologise, but I appreciate them very much! ****And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 23

After the students had left for the Christmas holidays, the staff had their usual end-of-term meeting to discuss the students' progress. Dumbledore sat at the head of a long oak table, a long roll of parchment in his hands. He rapped the table to get the teachers' attention. They quieted down at once.

'We shall begin with our first years,' Dumbledore announced, and there was a ruffling of parchment as the teachers turned to the proper place in their notes. 'What is your assessment of Hannah Abbott?'

By tradition, the student's Head of House was always permitted to speak first.

'I find her a marvellous girl,' Sprout replied. 'She's very diligent and conscientious, and I've had no complaints about her behaviour. As for her Herbology work, it's been solidly Acceptable.'

All of the other teachers agreed that Miss Abbott was a solid student, if uninspired, and Dumbledore moved on to the next student on the list.

'Ah, yes,' he said. 'What do you think of Aries Black?'

'He's a spirited boy, with a great deal of both natural talent and previous preparation,' McGonagall answered. 'He has overcome significant prejudice to become rather popular in Gryffindor House, and he has become a valued, dedicated member of his Quidditch team.' Her lips twisted in a slightly amused expression. 'He is certainly rambunctious, and rather reminds me of his father at that age. I have received occasional complaints about his propensity to mischief, but so far there has been no evidence that his jokes have crossed the line into especial malice or cruelty. He seems to get on well with the Weasley twins.

'As for his academic performance,' the witch continued, 'his work in Transfiguration has been exceptional, and I do not think that this is entirely the result of his advanced preparation. his native talent in this area is remarkable, which is unsurprising, given his father's own considerable gifts. Fortunately, the younger Black seems to have taken the initiative in keeping himself challenged. So long as his class work remains at its current standard, I have dispensed him from the ordinary homework, and instead permitted him to pursue his own projects under my supervision. The advanced work he has turned in has all been of superior calibre.'

'Thank you, Minerva,' Dumbledore said, and turned to the Charms master. 'What do you think, Filius?'

Professor Flitwick practically jumped with delight. 'I am very fond of the boy. He displays a gift for Charms I haven't seen since Lily Evans. Like Minerva, I have seen fit to encourage him in the pursuit of his own studies, and have been equally pleased with the results.'

'The boy is a solid student and shows clear mastery of the material,' Sprout said fairly, though it was clear from her expression that she had no particular love for the boy. 'However, he lacks motivation. I've noticed that when he already knows something he tends to act out, and I have sometimes needed to stop him from distracting other, weaker students. I have taken to partnering him with Neville Longbottom. Longbottom shows exceptional gifts in Herbology, and tends to move very quickly. This seems to be enough to keep Black interested.'

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. 'What do you think, Quirinus?'

'B-black s-seems to be a very g-gifted student,' Quirrell replied. 'He d-doesn't pay very much attention in class, but consistently p-performs very well on examinations.' He paused. 'He was able s-singlehandedly to k-kill a mountain t-troll on Halloween. I think that s-says much about his ability to d-defend himself.'

'I have some thoughts about that incident,' Snape said slowly. 'Black used a very powerful Dark curse to bring down that troll, and I have seen on a few other occasions how easily Dark magic seems to come to him.'

'That's hardly a surprise,' McGonagall observed, 'given his upbringing.'

'There is, I think, more to it than that,' Snape continued. 'His partner-in-crime Mr Malfoy has the same upbringing, but displays nothing of the prodigious talent Black does for the Dark Arts, though they are of comparable ability in every other way. This, when combined with Black's unfortunate disregard for the rules, gives me great cause for concern.'

'You make a valid point, Severus,' Dumbledore said. 'However, as we have seen, the boy does have other, more positive qualities. We ought to find ways to encourage those tendencies, whilst simultaneously inhibiting the growth of his more negative character traits. What do you think of his academic work?'

Snape snorted. 'Aside from his malignant attitude, I have no complaints. He is a competent potion-brewer.'

As Professor Sinistra had no particular comments, except to observe that the boy's work was consistently at an Outstanding level, and Professor Binns had stopped attending staff meetings some seventeen years _before_ his death, Dumbledore decided to move on.

'Very well,' he said to his teachers. 'Tell me, what do you think of Susan Bones?'

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express drew slowly into King's Cross Station, the cousins and the twins gathered their belongings and bade farewell to Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas.

'You're going to love Dad,' Harry gushed to the twins as they exited the train. 'He really is brilliant. He...' He paused in confusion when they stepped out onto the platform. 'He isn't here.'

Sirius Black was, in fact, conspicuously absent. In his stead stood Cassiopeia in her severest robes, looking sternly in their direction.

'Don't dawdle, boys,' she snapped. 'We don't want to wait around this Muggle sty a moment longer than we have to.' She looked at the boys' trunks and owls. 'Are these all your things?'

'Yes, Aunt Cassie,' Harry replied.

His great-aunt waved her wand and their trunks vanished.

'They will be waiting for you all at home,' she explained, taking a couple of steps closer to the boys. Fred and George Weasley instinctively took a step back. Cassiopeia glared at them. 'Aren't you going to introduce your friends, Aries?'

'Sorry, Aunt Cassie,' Harry replied hastily. 'These are Fred and George Weasley. They're Cedrella's grandsons.' He turned to the twins. 'This is my great-aunt, Cassiopeia Black.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Black,' Fred said nervously.

'A real honour,' George added.

'I know,' Cassiopeia replied in a bored tone. 'I wish I could say the same.' She sighed. 'In any event, my nephews are fond of you, and you have been invited to join the family for Christmas. As much as I might wish it otherwise, the decision in no way rests with me. I wish, however, to impress upon you the utmost importance of your maintaining proper decorum in our house. I don't doubt that, raised as you have been, you have become accustomed to a somewhat looser standard of behaviour. That will not do with us. You will behave yourselves as proper gentlemen at all times, or you will find the consequences to be most severe. Do I make myself perfectly clear?'

Fred and George nodded in unison.

'Do you have voices?' Cassiopeia demanded.

'Yes, Miss Black,' George stammered.

'Then I suggest you use them. Once again, do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Miss Black,' both boys replied simultaneously.

Cassiopeia gave them a faint smile. 'Excellent. As long as you behave yourselves appropriately, I expect we shall get on quite nicely.'

She led them off the platform and out of the station, and the boys followed her in silence. Fred and George gave Harry and Draco rather resentful looks, but the younger boys could only shrug apologetically.

'Where's Dad?' Harry asked Cassiopeia as they walked back to Windermere Court.

'Your father is very sorry that he is unable to collect,' she said. 'He injured his leg rather seriously over the weekend, and he is still unable to move about.'

'Is he all right?' Draco asked in concern.

Cassiopeia frowned. 'I have no doubt he will survive. Tell me, boys, how have you fared in school?'

'The classes are really boring,' Harry answered.

'They're nowhere near the level of yours, Aunt Cassie,' Draco added.

Cassiopeia sniffed. 'Undoubtedly. It is a very rare thing for children to be instructed by a witch of my proficiency. You should both count yourselves lucky to have been afforded such a privilege.' Her tone was stern, but the boys thought she looked rather pleased.

When they finally arrived at the house a quarter of an hour later, Sirius met them at the door, seated in Pollux's ornate old walking chair.

'Aries! Draco!' he exclaimed, and gave both boys a hug without standing. He smiled at Cassiopeia. 'Thank you for picking them up, Aunt Cassie.'

The old witch sniffed. 'It was dreadfully inconvenient, of course, but the boys managed to refrain from causing too much trouble.'

Harry grinned at her. 'You know you love us, Aunt Cassie.'

She pursed her lips, but gave him a rather affectionate look. 'Well, at least I am generally satisfied with your conduct, which is more than I can say for some people.' She turned her glare on Sirius. 'What were you doing to get yourself so damaged? Sliding down banisters again, no doubt.'

Sirius shrugged. 'It was the full moon, Aunt Cassie,' he said nonchalantly. 'I was wrestling with a werewolf.' Aunt Cassie shook her head and walked upstairs, muttering beneath her breath about insolent, overgrown adolescents, but Sirius gave Harry a playful wink, and the boy realised that his dad had been doing exactly what he had said.

'And these upstanding young gentlemen must be Fred and George Weasley, about whom I've heard so much,' Sirius said, offering the twins his hand. They accepted it somewhat nervously, still clearly shaken by their encounter with Cassiopeia. 'I'm Sirius Black, Aries' dad,' he went on. 'I remember seeing you at the Quidditch match. You're both excellent Beaters.'

'Thank you, Mr Black,' Fred said.

Sirius grimaced. 'Lose the "mister" bit,' he said. 'It makes me feel old. I'm only just barely on the far side of thirty, which is still quite young, really. Call me Sirius.'

'Certainly, Sirius,' George said politely, holding his hands folded politely in front of him, as though he were reciting a bit of poetry.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'Are you really going to be minding your P's and Q's all through Christmas?' He turned to Harry. 'Let me guess. Aunt Cassie gave her introductory speech?'

Harry nodded.

'I thought so,' Sirius replied with a sigh. 'Well, whatever the old crone said to you, I want you to do the exact opposite. This is your holiday, and I want you to enjoy every bit of it.' He raised his voice pointedly. 'And if Aunt Cassie complains, she'll find out just how dangerous a wizard Sirius Black can be!'

The boys heard a faint huff from upstairs. Sirius laughed heartily with Harry and Draco, and the Weasley twins hesitantly joined in.

'That's more like it,' Sirius said with an approving grin. 'I hear that you boys think yourselves quite the mischief-makers. I look forward to seeing a bit of that over the holiday.' He looked over his shoulder to where Mopsy was dusting a portrait of old Sir Sagittarius. 'Mopsy, kindly escort Messrs Fred and George Weasley to their rooms. They will be our guests here for the next two weeks, and you are to see that all their needs are fulfilled.'

'Yes, Master,' Mopsy replied, and led Fred and George upstairs.

'As for you, Draco,' Sirius continued, 'your mum is eager for you to come home as soon as possible. We'll see you at Grimmauld Place tomorrow, and then we'll all come over to Malfoy Manor on Christmas Day.'

Draco nodded. 'Thanks, Uncle Sirius. See you, Aries.'

The blond boy headed for the drawing room, and moments later vanished through the fireplace.

'It's good to have you home, Harry,' Sirius said once Draco had gone. 'I've missed you. It's just not the same with only Aunt Cassie and the Squibs to keep me company.'

Harry smirked. 'It seems like you and Uncle Remus have been keeping yourselves busy. What happened to that leg?'

'Werewolves have extraordinarily powerful jaws,' Sirius replied with a wince. 'Let me give you a bit of fatherly advice: No matter how good an idea it seems at the time, never try to sneak up and surprise a werewolf, even if you're a giant black dog and the said werewolf's best friend. You might just end up with a shattered leg for your trouble.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'A shattered leg?'

'It hurt like hell to have it mended, let me tell you,' Sirius replied. 'I should be all right by Christmas, though, and your granddad and I'll still have plenty of time to trounce you at Quidditch.'

'Dream on, old man,' Harry retorted.

Just then, the Weasley twins came sliding down the banister, one after another.

'I'm glad to see you boys are feeling more at home,' Sirius said wryly.

'Well, we heard it mentioned and decided we couldn't resist,' Fred replied.

'Are your rooms satisfactory?' Sirius asked.

George snorted. 'Does the sun let off a bit of light? I've never seen anything so grand in my entire life.'

'You should see Dad's suite,' Harry told him. 'It's like a whole flat all to itself.'

Sirius shrugged. 'Being me has its privileges. Who's up for a game of Exploding Snap?'

Fred and George grinned at each other. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

* * *

The twins, as it turned out, had a marvellous Christmas. Abraxas Malfoy welcomed them heartily to Malfoy Manor, and they received gifts from Sirius and Abraxas in addition to the ones from their family and friends. Sirius gave George a brand-new professional-quality Beater's bat, but he gave Fred an old, worn-looking one.

'That's my lucky bat,' Sirius explained in response to Fred's curious expression. 'We won every game I played with it.'

Fred looked stunned. 'Blimey! Thanks, Sirius.'

'It's yours on the condition that you pass it on to your successor as Gryffindor Beater,' Sirius said solemnly. 'I want its magic to continue on to the next generation. I'd give it to Harry or Draco, but they're rubbish Beaters. I think it would take more than a lucky bat to win any game with them Beating.'

Harry and Draco simultaneously hit Sirius with a Tickling Hex, and soon the tall man was rolling on the floor, laughing.

'How can you do that outside of school?' George demanded. 'Won't you two get in trouble with the Ministry?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Cassiopeia sniffed. 'The Trace can only detect where magic was done, not who did it.'

'In a magical home, there's no way the Ministry can figure out that an underage wizard has done magic,' Narcissa explained.

The twins looked as though that were the best present they could possibly have received. They pulled out their wands, and soon the Manor's drawing room erupted in a hex war. Lucius and the ladies excused themselves, but Abraxas and Sirius joined in eagerly. Sirius in particular took full advantage of his new freedom from the walking chair to dodge and twirl, and by dinnertime, he was the undisputed champion.

'Dad always wins hex wars,' Harry explained to the twins on their way to the dining room.

'It's because I am such a great and fearsome wizard,' Sirius boasted, his festive dress robes swishing as he swept past them.

Harry grinned mischievously and tried out a nonverbal spell James had taught him. Soon Sirius was dangling in the air from his foot, his long hair dragging on the floor. The twins and Draco burst out laughing.

'What were you saying, Dad?' Harry taunted.

Sirius didn't blink. He flicked his wand and Transfigured Harry into a large gourd. Harry's spell broke, and Sirius barely managed to Conjure a large pile of fluffy pillows before he landed on the floor. The twins and Draco applauded. Sirius jumped to his feet and gave a little bow before Vanishing the pillows and picking up the Harry-gourd.

'I like you much better this way,' he said with a grin. 'I think I shall leave you like this until after dinner. On the other hand...'

Sirius dropped the gourd. The twins cried out in shock, but Sirius only flicked his wand, and Harry returned to normal before he could splatter all over the floor. Instead he ended up with only a sore bottom. Sirius reached down his hand and helped Harry up.

He chuckled. 'You were saying?'

Harry only rolled his eyes. 'Just you wait, Dad. I'll get you one day.'

Sirius tousled Harry's hair. 'I'm sure you will. But until that day comes, I'm going to savour every moment.'

* * *

On Boxing Day, the twins, Harry and Draco went with Sirius to Remus's house on the moors, where they spent the day eating leftovers and being regaled by stories of the Marauders' glory days at Hogwarts. Fred and George listened to their idols with rapt attention, and Harry could see their minds working as they drew inspiration from the Marauders to improve their own mischief-making.

On December 27, the Gryffindor Quidditch team assembled at Malfoy Manor for their party. There were mountains of top-notch food and plenty of butterbeer. Sirius, true to his word, brought a bit of firewhisky, though he carefully monitored consumption. There was music and a number of games, and everyone had a marvellous time. Harry, Sirius and the twins did not return to Windermere Court until well after midnight, and so they were quite surprised to find Marius waiting up for them, alongside a witch and wizard with very red hair and stern expressions on their faces.

'FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!' the witch roared as soon as they stepped through the Floo. 'HOW DARE YOU? WHEN I GOT PERCY'S LETTER...'

'Oh, so it was Percy, was it?' Fred said.

'Figures,' George added. 'Perfect prefect Percy.'

Sirius stepped forward. 'You must be Mr and Mrs Weasley,' he said in a friendly tone. 'I'm Sirius Black. Has there been some sort of misunderstanding?'

'I know perfectly well who you are,' Mrs Weasley snapped. 'And what! And if you think I'll let you patch over this with your gold the way you've done everything else, you've got another think coming.'

'Molly, calm down,' Mr Weasley urged quietly. He turned to Sirius. 'You see, Mr Black, we were under the impression that the boys were staying at school for Christmas. When we received a letter from our son informing us that they had gone home to stay with a family we did not know...well, being a parent yourself, I am sure you can understand our concern.'

Sirius gave the twins a wry look. 'You didn't tell your parents you were coming?'

George shrugged. 'Must've slipped our minds.'

Sirius sighed and turned back to the Weasleys. 'I'm very sorry, Mr and Mrs Weasley. When I told my son that he could invite the twins to come here for the holidays, I assumed they had permission. I should have thought you would be happy for them to spend Christmas with friends, rather than alone at Hogwarts.'

'I don't know what Dark schemes you have up your sleeve, Black,' Mrs Weasley hissed, 'but I'll thank you to stay far away from our family. I don't want you turning their heads, poisoning them with your wicked notions.'

'Don't blame my dad!' Harry yelled, jumping to Sirius's defence. 'It's not his fault.'

Sirius put a strong hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Thank you, son, but I'll take care of this,' he said in a low, even voice, a tone that Harry had learnt not to question. He obediently quieted down.

'There's no need for all this bickering,' Marius said with a yawn. 'It's very late. Why don't I have our house-elf prepare a room for you, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and we can all talk this over in the morning?'

'Thank you, Mr Black,' Mrs Weasley replied curtly, 'but we shan't be staying more than a minute.' She turned on the twins. 'Fred! George! Collect your things. We're going home.'

'What?' the twins protested. 'That's not fair!'

Mrs Weasley, however, would not change her mind. The boys trudged sullenly up the stairs to pack. They returned a few minutes later with their trunks and broomsticks.

'Where did you get those new brooms, boys?' Mr Weasley asked curiously.

'A couple of alumni gave new brooms to the Gryffindor team members,' Fred said quickly.

'It was really very generous of them,' George added.

'I see,' Mrs Weasley said quietly. 'Well, you won't be seeing those brooms again until you go back to school.' The furious woman marched her sons right out the front door, leaving an embarrassed Mr Weasley to bid the Blacks good-night. Once all the Weasleys had left, Sirius let out a long breath.

'Thanks for dealing with them, Uncle Marius,' he said. 'I'm sorry we kept you up.'

'Not at all, my boy,' Marius replied sleepily. 'I could have sent them over to Malfoy Manor, of course, when they showed up at eight o'clock, but I hated to interrupt the party. I told them I didn't know where you all had gone.'

Sirius chuckled and clapped the Squib on his shoulder. 'So you sat with them for over four hours? You're a good man, Uncle Marius.' He looked down at Harry and patted him on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry your friends had to leave.'

The boy shrugged sadly. 'They should have known better than to try to trick their mother. She clearly isn't the sort to take this kind of thing lying down.' He sighed. 'Draco will be disappointed. We were all going to play Quidditch tomorrow.'

Sirius grinned. 'Well, Granddad and I shall just have to take the opportunity to crush the both of you, shan't we? I can't wait to show you my new broom.'


	24. Part I: Chapter 24

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers! ****And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 24

On one chilly afternoon towards the end of the Christmas holidays, Harry was reading in the library of number twelve, Grimmauld Place – by far the best stocked of all the family libraries – when Draco burst in excitedly, clutching an old book in his arms.

'Uncle Sirius said I'd find you here,' he said cheerily. 'I've found the answer.'

'To what?' Harry asked, barely looking up from his copy of _Moste Potente Potions_.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'To how we're going to steal the Philosopher's Stone without dying in the process.'

Harry looked up at that. 'What's your idea?' he asked.

'Password-activated Portkeys,' Draco said smugly. 'We prepare them to take us to a safe location when activated, and that way, if we come up against something we can't handle, we just say the password.'

'Brilliant,' Harry said with an approving smile. 'Have you learnt how to make a Portkey?'

'It's a simple incantation,' Draco said, showing him the book he carried, 'but difficult to manage. I thought we could practise together.'

Harry nodded. 'We want to make sure we know what we're doing before we put our lives on the line.'

The boys spent the rest of their holiday making Portkeys. The first few didn't work at all. Harry wanted to try doing it with Parseltongue, but Sirius had told him only to use it in the most desperate of situations, as it seemed to interfere with his regular magic. Even without his special gift, however, Harry was the first to make a successful Portkey, one that took the boys from the library to his bedroom. They experimented with greater and greater distances, and by the time the holiday was over, they felt fairly confident.

Come January 5, Sirius drove the boys to the station in the V8 Vantage. Once he parked the car, he helped them load their things onto carts in the Muggle way.

'I know it's easier to have Mopsy bring them,' he said, 'but it's good for you to know how to do without, in case you ever need to.'

He escorted them through the crowds and led them onto the platform. He gave both boys a hug before they boarded the train.

'Have fun,' he said. 'It's not that long till Easter, and Granddad and I'll come up for the Quidditch games.'

The boys said their goodbyes and boarded the Hogwarts Express in good spirits. Once on the train, however, the boys suffered a serious blow. Fred and George came by their compartment, their faces long.

'Bad news,' Fred said glumly. 'Our mum went ballistic after we got home.'

'I thought she went ballistic way before then,' Harry said.

George shook his head. 'That was nothing. She's forbidden us to spend any more time with the two of you, outside of the Quidditch team.'

Draco gawked at them incredulously. 'You must be joking.'

Fred sighed. 'I wish we were, mate.'

'Well, you can't be planning on listening to her,' Harry said.

'We thought of just ignoring her and doing what we want anyway, like we usually do,' George said.

'But then she told us that she's asked Ron and Percy to spy on us and let her know if we do spend any time with you,' Fred finished.

'That's not fair!' Draco protested.

'No, it isn't,' George agreed. 'But Mum thinks you two are a bad influence.'

Fred laughed bitterly. 'It must be the first time she's ever thought anyone could be a bad influence on us.'

'Don't worry, though,' George said. 'we're hoping it will only be for this term. Over the summer, I'm sure we'll be able to talk Dad into getting her to change her mind.'

'And we're still your friends,' Fred added. 'We're here for you if you need us, Ron and Percy be damned.'

'Thanks,' Harry said with a small grin.

'We had a really good Christmas with your families,' George said. 'Be sure to thank them for us.'

'And tell them how sorry we are about what happened,' Fred added.

'We'll do that,' Draco promised, and the twins left to go sit with Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas.

'Damn that Weasley woman,' Harry growled after the twins had gone. 'Why do adults have to meddle in everything?'

'It could be worse, Aries.' Draco smirked. 'My father doesn't like you or Uncle Sirius either, but he hasn't forbidden me to spend time with you.'

Harry laughed. 'I should like to see him try. Just imagine what Granddad would say.'

'Forget Granddad,' Draco retorted. 'Imagine what I'd say.'

Just then the door of their compartment opened. Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass stood in the open doorway. Harry and Draco jumped to their feet.

'Happy New Year, ladies,' Harry said, assuming the suave tone Sirius had taught him in preparation for the previous year's Christmas Ball. 'What a delightful surprise.'

'Happy New Year, boys,' Pansy replied. 'May we join you?'

Draco motioned towards the seat to his left. 'Please.'

Pansy sat next to Draco and Daphne sat next to Harry. Harry opened up Mopsy's basket and offered them both some éclairs, which the girl took with eager gratitude.

'We didn't see much of you last term,' Daphne said.

'It was our loss, I assure you,' Harry replied.

'You're not avoiding us because we're Slytherins?' Pansy teased.

'If we did that we should have to avoid our families as well,' Draco pointed out.

'It is a bit frustrating, how difficult they make it for us to interact with people outside our own Houses,' Daphne commented. 'There are a number of people in other Houses that I think I should get on with much better than some of the people in my own.'

Harry groaned. 'Tell me about it. I'd much rather you were in our House instead of that Muggleborn swot Granger.'

'For that matter, I shouldn't object to trading Weasley and Finnegan for Nott and Zabini, either,' Draco added.

'You lot can keep Crabbe and Goyle, though,' Harry said with a winning grin.

'I can't stand that Granger girl,' Pansy said. 'She's so ugly too! With that bushy hair and those buckteeth. It's not far that she should be at the top of every class.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'She may be the top _girl_ in every class, Pansy, but I hardly think she's the top _student_.'

Pansy giggled. 'You and Aries stand so far above the rest of us, I didn't even think of counting you.'

'You're right about one thing, though,' Harry said. 'Granger is an all-around pest.'

Daphne frowned. 'I actually feel rather sorry for her,' she said quietly. 'I know she can be a bit off-putting, but she seems terribly lonely. Just imagine what it must be like to go to a school where you don't know anyone or anything.'

'Dean Thomas seems to be adjusting just fine,' Draco pointed out. 'He knows what he doesn't know and is happy to learn. Granger, though...'

'Is different,' Daphne cut in. 'She's trying to prove to everyone that she really belongs here.'

'She doesn't, though,' Pansy said bitingly. 'She's a Mudblood.'

Harry sat still for a moment, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. 'My godmother was a Muggleborn,' he said quietly. 'Lily Potter. But everyone says she was a brilliant witch.'

Draco nodded thoughtfully. 'Her portrait's really nice. She doesn't act at all like Granger.'

Pansy backtracked as quickly as she could. 'I didn't mean to say anything against your godmother, Aries.'

'Of course not,' Harry said dully. He paused before turning to Daphne. 'You may have a point. Maybe Granger would be more tolerable if she had someone to be nice to her, to explain how things work.'

Daphne shrugged. 'It's always worth a try. If she turns out to be as awful as she seems at first glance, no one's going to force you to spend time with her.'

Harry nodded, and there was an awkward silence.

'By the way, Draco,' Pansy broke in with a giggle. 'Guess where I spent the holidays!'

* * *

Without the Weasley twins to distract them, and armed with their new escape plan, the boys wasted no time in executing their grand heist. Late on the second night of term, Harry and Draco slipped out of their dormitory under the Cloak and made their way to the third-floor corridor. Each boy wore a Portkey around his neck that would activate only when its owner uttered a specific password.

When they reached the locked door, Harry whispered, '_Alohomora_,' and the cousins crept inside. Just as before, the giant dog detected their scent and moved towards them, but this time Harry and Draco immediately began to sing, Draco taking the melody line and Harry the harmony.

'_Lullaby, and good-night,_' they sang, '_in roses bedight. Creep into thy bed, there slumber thy head.'_

The dog instantly relaxed, its three heads each sporting a goofy, doggy grin. It lay down on the stone floor and drifted off to sleep. The boys continued to sing as they made their way to the trapdoor and jumped in. Harry was careful to close the trapdoor behind him as he jumped, lest anyone else come in and discover what had happened. Even through the trapdoor, Harry could hear the sudden snarling as the dog woke up.

The landing was surprisingly soft. Harry felt relieved...until the floor began to twist around his legs.

'What is this?' he demanded.

'I'm not sure,' Draco replied anxiously.

Harry lit his wand. 'Great Merlin!' he exclaimed. 'It's Devil's Snare!'

'It likes the wet and the dark,' Draco said quickly. 'We should light a fire.'

Harry nodded, and muttered the incantation. Flames burst forth from the tip of his wand, and the Snare let the boys go.

'That was close,' Draco muttered.

'I wonder what other nasty surprises Dumbledore has in store for us,' Harry mused.

They made their way along the damp stone corridor, and soon entered a brightly lit chamber. There was a door on the far side of the room, but it was locked, and refused to open to spells. Up above them, it looked as though a thousand birds were fluttering about. Harry looked more carefully, and then it dawned on him.

'They're keys!' he exclaimed. 'Winged keys.'

'Which one do you think opens the door?' Draco asked. 'They all look the same.'

Harry smiled. 'They are all the same, except for that silver one. It matches the lock on the door.' He spotted a broomstick out of the corner of his eye. 'I'll have to catch it.'

'We don't have time for Quidditch heroics,' Draco said, rolling his eyes at the eager expression on Harry's face. He lifted his wand and pointed it towards the iron key. '_Accio Silver Key!_' he intoned, and the key flew into his hand. He opened the door easily and let the key fly back to its brothers. Harry and Draco walked through the door and found themselves facing a giant chessboard.

'Do you think we have to play?' Harry asked.

'No, Aries, I think the giant chessmen are just here for decoration,' Draco snapped.

Harry gave his cousin a funny look. 'You seem unusually tense.'

'Sorry,' Draco said sheepishly. 'It just all makes me a bit nervous. I mean, none of the obstacles so far have been exactly what you'd call difficult. There must be something worse up ahead.'

Harry groaned. 'That's a cheerful thought.'

'As for the chessboard,' Draco mused, ' I suppose we need to take the place of the pieces. I'll be the king, you can be the queen.'

'Thanks, mate,' Harry said sarcastically.

They took their spots. Before play began, Harry leaned over to Draco and whispered in his ear. 'Go for scholar's mate.'

Draco nodded, and they began to play. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it worked. Four moves later, it was checkmate, and Harry and Draco happily passed through to the other side. They found themselves facing a very angry mountain troll.

'This should be easy,' Harry said with a grin, and brandished his wand.

'Don't kill this one,' Draco suggested. 'If we leave the protections in place it will take longer for them to figure out we've taken the Stone.'

'Good point,' Harry agreed, and pointed his wand at the troll's head. '_Imperio!_' he whispered, and the troll docilely allowed them to pass.

'You're awfully good at that,' Draco observed with a frown as they walked on ahead. 'How many times have you used it before?'

'Only once,' Harry replied with a grin. 'I Imperiused the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor.'

'WHAT?' Draco exclaimed. 'What did you do that for?'

Harry shrugged. 'It was taking too long. I didn't want to be separated from you.'

'You're one scary wizard, Aries.' Draco shook his head in bewilderment. 'Not that I mind. I didn't like the other option the Hat was giving me.'

'What was it?' Harry asked.

'Not telling,' Draco said primly. 'That's the price you pay for your impatience.'

'If I hadn't done it, you mightn't have wound up in Gryffindor,' Harry said defensively.

Draco snorted. 'Think about we're up to at the moment, Aries. We're stealing the Philosopher's Stone, just for the hell of it. If that isn't a Gryffindorish thing to do, I don't know what is.'

Harry smirked and the cousins moved on to the next obstacle.

Flames suddenly burst up both in front and behind, trapping them in a stone room with a table, on which lay a row of potions and a riddle written on parchment.

'This is tricky,' Draco muttered after he read the instructions, and began trying to figure out the puzzle. 'Some of the phials are poison, some are nettle wine, whilst one will take us forward, and one back. Let's see...'

'We don't have time for this rubbish,' Harry said. He levelled his wand at the row of potions. '_Toxicum revelio_,' he muttered, and small black clouds appeared over the phials that contained poison. '_Vinum revelio_.' A purple haze appeared over the phials that contained nettle wine. 'Does that help?' he asked wryly.

Draco grinned. 'A bit.' He glanced over the riddle again, and took a phial. 'This is it. This will take us forward.' He took a sip and then handed it to Harry, who drank from the phial and then replaced it, being careful to cast a Refilling Charm before stepping through the flames into the next room. Draco joined him a moment later. The room was empty except for a large, antique mirror. Harry wandered over and stood in front of the mirror. He gasped at what he saw. It was himself, only as he had been before he became Aries Black, with James's messy hair and Lily's green eyes. Behind him stood James and Lily, as well as Sirius and Remus. Draco stood beside him, and the rest of the family were there too: Pollux, Arcturus, Melania, Irma, Cassiopeia, Abraxas, the Squibs...all of them. In his hands Harry held a large crystal flask of Elixir of Life, and everyone around him looked both energetic and youthful.

'What do we do now, Aries?' Draco asked impatiently. 'I just want to find the Stone and go.'

'Look in the mirror,' Harry said eagerly, shoving his cousin in front of the large mirror. 'What do you see?'

Draco stared briefly, and then gasped. 'The Stone! It's in my pocket.' He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a blood-red stone.

'You did it!' Harry exclaimed in shock.

'We did it,' Draco corrected with a smile.

'May I see it?' Harry asked, reaching out for the Stone.

'Once we get out of here,' Draco said, and muttered his password. Nothing happened. He tried again, with no results. And again. Draco's triumphant look changed to one of panic. 'The Portkey doesn't work. There must be anti-Portkey wards in place!'

'Let's try mine,' Harry said, and grabbed his cousin's arm before letting out a long, guttural hiss. It didn't work.

'We'll have to try to make our way back through the obstacles,' Draco said.

'How are we supposed to do that?' Harry snapped. 'The effects of that potion have undoubtedly worn off by now, and there's no other way to get through the flames.'

'What do we do?' Draco asked.

'We'll have to break through the anti-Portkey wards,' Harry said.

'How the hell are you going to do that?' his cousin demanded.

'Don't know,' Harry replied honestly. He closed his eyes, raised his wand and began to hiss. Draco felt himself growing more and more nervous as his cousin went through incantation after incantation. Finally, Harry's eyes snapped open and he grabbed Draco's arm. 'Now, Draco!' he shouted, and the blond boy uttered the password. Moments later, the two boys found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room.

'How did you manage that?' Draco panted.

Harry smirked. 'I'm the Heir of Slytherin, the next Dark Lord. I have all sorts of phenomenal powers.'

His cousin rolled his eyes, and the two boys went up to bed. Neither noticed a certain Muggleborn witch hiding behind a large armchair.

* * *

Early the next morning, Hermione dragged Ron and Seamus back to their favourite abandoned classroom.

'What is it this time?' Seamus yawned. 'You could have let us have a bit of a lie-in. Even the Crafty Cousins aren't up yet.'

'And I know why,' Hermione said smugly. 'They were up late last night. They Apparated into the Common Room, even though no one can Apparate or Disapparate inside of Hogwarts.'

Ron scoffed at that. 'There's no way they could have Apparated, Hermione. They're only eleven.'

The bushy-haired girl glared at him. 'I know what I saw, Ron. Besides, I heard what Malfoy said after they Apparated. He asked Black how he did it.'

'And what did Black say?' Seamus asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'He said that it was one of the many special powers he has because he's the Heir of Slytherin and the next Dark Lord.'

Both boys' eyes went wide in shock.

'He actually admitted it?' Ron exclaimed.

Hermione nodded soberly. 'Right there in the Common Room.'

'Did he know you were there?' Seamus asked. 'Mightn't he have been pulling your leg?'

'He didn't know I was there,' Hermione said. 'I was behind an armchair picking up a book I'd forgotten when they Apparated in.'

Ron collapsed in a rickety wooden chair that barely looked as if it could hold his weight.

'Blimey,' he exclaimed. 'I knew they were trouble, but I never thought they'd admit it so freely.' He shook his head. 'They've been weaselling their way into our family too. Fred and George went over to the Blacks for Christmas. Mum was livid when she found out.'

'We've got to do something,' Seamus said. 'Maybe we could tell a teacher?'

Ron sat up straight. 'That's an idea. We could tell McGonagall.'

Hermione shook her head pensively. 'I like Professor McGonagall, but I'm not sure we can trust her. I went to complain to her after I saw her award Black House points for the Dark magic he used on the troll, and she told me to mind my own business.'

'If Black really is the next Dark Lord, we should go straight to the Headmaster,' Seamus opined.

Ron scoffed. 'When? It's not like we have any lessons with him.'

'I think we should go to Professor Quirrell,' Hermione said at last. 'He _is _the Defence against the Dark Arts master.'

'Do you think he could handle a Dark Lord?' Seamus asked. 'He seems a bit on the twitchy side.'

Hermione sighed, conceding the point. 'I still think we should tell him. If he can't handle Black himself, at least he can take the matter to Dumbledore. The Headmaster would be more likely to listen to a teacher than a bunch of first-years.'


	25. Part I: Chapter 25

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers! ****And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 25

Hermione, being the dutiful girl she was, wasted no time in going directly to Professor Quirrell's office that same afternoon and knocking on his heavy oak door.

'Excuse me, sir,' she said nervously once he had let her inside. 'I have something I need to discuss with you.'

'W-what is it, M-m-miss Granger?' he asked kindly.

'It's about Aries Black,' she said. 'I think he's up to something.'

'W-what m-makes you s-say that?'

Hermione chewed her lower lip. 'I overheard him and Malfoy talking the other night. They Apparated into Gryffindor Tower.'

'No one can Ap-p-parate inside Hogwarts, M-miss Granger,' Quirrell corrected her. 'L-least of all t-two f-first-years.'

'I know, sir, but I saw them appear out of nowhere,' Hermione insisted.

'Th-that is strange. Have y-you any idea how they m-managed it?' the Defence master asked.

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, sir. They were talking, and Black commented that he had all sorts of powers because he was the Heir of Slytherin and the next Dark Lord.'

Quirrell's expression, which had been one of that sort of polite boredom with which an elderly relative might listen to a small child's fantastic story, abruptly shifted to one of intense interest.

'What else did he say?' he asked eagerly.

'Nothing, sir,' Hermione said. 'But I think he might be after the thing that's hidden in the third-floor corridor.'

Quirrell smiled indulgently, but his eyes flickered with concern. 'What makes you think that there is anything hidden in the corridor?'

The Muggleborn girl raised an eyebrow. 'It's not that hard to figure out, Professor. I don't know what it is exactly, but I don't want Black to steal it.'

'You're a very bright girl, Miss Granger,' he said. 'Ten points to Gryffindor. I shall investigate this matter thoroughly. If you hear anything else suspicious, please inform me.'

'Of course, sir,' Hermione said, and left the room. She was so pleased at being taken seriously that she completely failed to notice that, for the last part of their conversation, Quirrell had forgotten to stutter.

* * *

After Harry and Draco had captured the Stone, neither boy gave it much more thought. The heist had been the main thing for both cousins, and though Harry had thought a good deal about what the Stone could do in the future, he had no pressing need to explore its powers as of yet. Draco handed it over to Harry without complaint, and Harry only stroked it fondly for a few minutes before merrily stuffing it in a sock and hiding it at the bottom of his trunk. Between their lessons and other activities, they almost forgot about the Stone altogether.

One day, on his way up from Potions, Harry accidentally bumped into Hermione Granger, knocking her books out of her arms and scattering them all over the stone floor.

'I'm so sorry, Granger,' Harry said, and Summoned all her books into a neat stack before handing them back to her.

'Thanks,' the Muggleborn girl mumbled.

Harry decided to take advantage of the opportunity to put into practice some of the things Daphne had suggested.

'By the way, Granger,' he said, 'we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry about that. I know it must be difficult for you coming into a new world where you don't understand how everything works. I should have offered to help you out.'

Granger looked at him suspiciously. 'What are you playing at, Black?'

'Nothing,' Harry said innocently. 'I just realised we'd got off to a bad start and thought I'd try to make amends.'

Granger narrowed her eyes. 'Are you trying to set me up for some prank, or is this something even worse?'

'What do you take me for, Granger?' Harry asked in confusion.

'I know what you and Malfoy are planning, and I don't intend to let you get away with it,' the bushy-haired girl replied defiantly. Harry threw up his hands and backed away.

'Fine,' he said. 'Have it your way. I shan't bother you again.'

He headed for the stairwell and left the suspicious girl behind him.

* * *

The week after they had stolen the Stone, Harry was making his getaway from a revenge prank he had played on Percy Weasley when he ran directly into Professor Quirrell.

'Excuse me, sir,' he said. 'I'm sorry. I didn't see you.'

'That's q-quite all right, M-mister B-black,' Quirrell said. He pulled Harry aside into an empty classroom. 'I have heard th-that you and your c-cousin have a b-bit of interest in the Ph-philosopher's Stone.'

Harry was surprised, but did not allow it to show on his face.

'I don't know what you mean, Professor,' he said. 'I've read about it, of course, but so far as I know, very few have ever successfully made it. The only existing Stone, I think, belongs to Nicolas Flamel.'

Quirrell narrowed his eyes, and Harry suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his forehead. Then came a sudden hissing noise, but Quirrell's lips did not move. It sounded as though the noise were coming from the back of the professor's head.

'We have heard other things too,' the strange voice hissed in Parseltongue. 'We have heard that you claim to be the Heir of Slytherin. How can that be, when the true Heir is none other than Lord Voldemort?'

Part of Harry wanted very much to answer, but something told him that would be foolish. He kept quiet.

'Can he even understand me?' the voice droned on. 'What sort of Heir is he to Salazar Slytherin if he cannot speak the ancient language of the serpents?'

'If I may ask, sir,' Harry addressed Quirrell, ignoring the strange voice, 'where did you hear that I was interested in the Philosopher's Stone?'

'Miss Granger told me,' Quirrell said. 'She said you were planning to steal it.'

_How could she have known? _Harry wondered. He thought quickly, and then spoke. 'Granger must have misunderstood, sir,' he said. 'She was in the library when I was talking with my cousin Draco about the forbidden corridor on the third floor. We were wondering whether it might have something to do with the Chamber of Secrets Slytherin supposedly left behind, the one only his true Heir can open. I said that I'd like to sneak inside.' He furrowed his brow. 'But that wouldn't have anything to do with the Philosopher's Stone, would it, sir? So far as I know, I've never even brought that up.' He forcibly brightened his expression. 'Might there be a Philosopher's Stone inside Slytherin's Chamber, sir?'

Quirrell chuckled. 'Wh-what a f-fanciful idea, Mr Black. That w-will be all.'

Harry turned around to leave.

'Wait,' the strange voice hissed, and Harry stopped dead in his tracks before he could realise just what a terrible mistake that was.

'You do speak the language of the serpents, don't you?' the voice continued to hiss. 'Turn around when your betters are speaking to you, boy.'

Harry laughed, but he did turn around to face Quirrell. 'You are hardly my better,' he hissed. 'I am Slytherin's True Heir, descended in faithful descent from two pureblood lines that stretch back to the days of Merlin. Who are you?'

Quirrell turned around slowly and removed his turban, revealing a hideous face on the back of his head. The face's eyes glowed red, and it had no nose, only snake-like slits.

'I am Lord Voldemort,' the voice hissed. 'And _I _am the True Heir of Slytherin.'

Harry wrinkled his nose. He thought the face was the most disgusting thing he ever saw. He snorted.

'If you are really Slytherin's Heir, then why do you use a pseudonym?' he asked. 'If you were a decent pureblood you wouldn't feel compelled to go by that ridiculous name. "Lord Slytherin" would sound much more impressive.' He smirked. 'As would "Lord Black".' He paused. 'My great-grandfather always suspected you were some witch's bastard. Who was your dad, some filthy Muggle?'

Voldemort roared in rage, and Harry knew he had guessed exactly right.

'You're a half-blood, aren't you?' he taunted. 'What irony! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a half-blood!'

'KILL HIM!' Voldemort roared in English, and Quirrell turned around, his wand drawn. Harry raised his own wand, and they began to duel. Harry used all the Dark curses he knew, and some which he thought he didn't, but Quirrell was an accomplished duellist. With Voldemort helping his opponent, even Harry's Parseltongue abilities didn't seem to give him an edge. With mounting terror, Harry realised that there was no way he could win. He was duelling to kill, and even so he could only barely manage to hold off Quirrell's attacks.

In one horrible instant, Quirrell's Cutting Curse got through, and Harry collapsed to the floor, bleeding profusely. Lord Voldemort cackled.

'You were lying about your ability to speak Parseltongue,' he said in a high voice. 'Were you lying about the Stone too? Are you looking for a way to break through Dumbledore's defences? Tell me what you know!'

Harry lay on the stone floor, his heart thumping violently within his chest, and something cold and hard pressing into it from the outside. _The Portkey_, he thought. He was still wearing it. He let out a low, strangled hiss, and vanished, leaving Quirrell and Voldemort behind.

He suddenly appeared on the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room, covered in blood. Harry could dimly hear the shrieks and cries of his Housemates through a thick haze.

'Great Merlin!' Fred shouted. 'Aries!' The twins ran to Harry's side.

'Who did this?' George demanded.

'Quirrell,' Harry whispered. 'He's been possessed by the Dark Lord.' Then he passed out.

Dean Thomas ran off to get Madam Pomfrey, whilst Lee Jordan went to fetch Professor McGonagall. Fred and George sat by Harry, and not even Percy dared say anything to them about it. In all the hustle and bustle, no one noticed Hermione Granger slip up the stairs to her dormitory, a horrified expression on her face, and copious tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

Sirius Black stormed through the doors of Hogwarts, his gold-and-scarlet robes billowing behind him. Abraxas Malfoy followed after his son-in-law, along with Cassiopeia Black. After them came Irma, Druella and Narcissa, as well as Melania, who had come all the way from France. The Squibs brought up the rear. Furious rage burned in the eyes of each and every one of them.

Students made way for the angry crowd as it surged up the stairs. Any who dawdled were soon helped on their way by a few Stinging Hexes from Cassiopeia's wand. The family headed directly for the hospital wing, where Draco met them outside the closed doors.

'How is he?' Sirius demanded.

Draco shook his head. 'Not well. It was very Dark magic. Madam Pomfrey says he's lost a lot of blood, and she can't get the wounds to seal properly. She's giving him loads of Blood-Replenishing Potions, but if she can't get the wounds sealed, they won't do him any good. She's kicked everyone out of the infirmary whilst she's working.'

'Who was he duelling?' Abraxas asked. 'I should have thought our Aries would have been more than a match for any student.'

'Did they come after him from behind?' Cassiopeia asked. 'I suspect it was some dishonourable Mudblood. Attacked him whilst his back was turned.'

Draco chewed his lower lip. 'Aries said it was Professor Quirrell.'

'AN EFFING TEACHER?' Sirius roared, causing his grandmothers to blush, though they agreed fully with the sentiment.

Draco nodded. 'Aries said he was being possessed by the Dark Lord.'

'Where is Quirrell now?' Sirius demanded.

'I am afraid, Sirius, that Professor Quirrell seems to have disappeared,' Dumbledore said, coming up the stairs from behind them.

'What sort of damn fool school are you running, Dumbledore?' Marius demanded. 'Hiring Dark-Lord-possessed wizards as teachers? That's just not cricket.'

Dumbledore looked at Marius strangely. 'I don't believe we've met,' he said politely.

'I'm Marius Black,' the other man responded. 'Sirius's great-uncle.'

'I could have sworn that I had taught all the Blacks, Mr Black,' the elderly Headmaster said. 'But I have no memory of you.'

'My brother's a Squib,' Cassiopeia said brusquely. 'And I daresay he'd do far better running this school than you have, Professor. I fully intend to bring this matter up at the next meeting of the Board of Governors. Dark-Lord-possessed Defence masters!' She sniffed. 'What's next? Hell-hounds as guard dogs?'

'I assure you all that I was not aware of Quirrell's condition,' Dumbledore tried to reassure them.

'Then you're as incompetent as my husband always thought,' Irma retorted.

'I do find it odd that you do not routinely check for possession as part of the screening process,' Melania observed. 'I am quite certain they do at Beauxbatons.'

Narcissa sighed. 'I suppose we shall have to send the boys there or Durmstrang. I don't like the idea of them being so far away.'

Melania patted her on the shoulder. 'There, there, dear. You can all move down to the chateau. We've plenty of room.'

'My grandsons are not leaving Hogwarts, dear lady,' Abraxas insisted. 'This old Muggle-loving fool will leave first.'

All this time, Sirius's stare was drilling holes into Dumbledore's forehead.

'I want to see my son,' he said quietly, and all his relatives fell completely silent and joined him in glaring at Dumbledore.

'Alas, Sirius, Madam Pomfrey has made it quite clear that she is to remain undisturbed whilst she is working,' the Headmaster replied.

Before Sirius could respond with the string of profanities that sat on the tip of his tongue, the doors of the infirmary opened and the matron stepped out. All eyes turned to her, and Dumbledore slipped away quietly.

'How is he?' Sirius demanded.

Madam Pomfrey's face was long. 'I've finally managed to stop the bleeding, but this was no ordinary Cutting Curse. He's still unconscious, and I don't know whether the Blood-Replenishing Potions will take effect in time to prevent serious damage.' She paused. 'I don't want him to be disturbed, but if you promise to be very quiet, you can see him in small groups. No more than three at a time.'

Without blinking an eye, Sirius, Abraxas and Cassiopeia passed through the infirmary doors.

* * *

That evening, Dumbledore sat up late in his study, pondering the many unusual occurrences of the day. Most serious, of course, was Aries Black's revelation that Quirrell was being possessed by Lord Voldemort. Naturally, the word of a single student was insufficient to convict the Defence master of anything, but the sudden disappearance of Quirrell led Dumbledore to suspect that young Mr Black was telling the truth. How the boy had managed to survive such an encounter as long as he had was utterly beyond the aged Headmaster. He was undoubtedly as gifted a wizard as Dumbledore's intelligence had suggested. The professor sincerely hoped that Aries would yet survive, though Poppy did not give him very good odds. The family had wanted him moved to St Mungo's but the Healers there had agreed with Poppy's assessment that they could do little more to help the boy than she could, and said that to move him at this juncture would be unnecessarily risky.

Another enigma was Sirius Black. Lupin had led Dumbledore to believe that the playboy wizard was an unfit parent, the sort of neglectful father who thinks nothing of abandoning his son for some loose woman on Christmas Eve. But Sirius had not left Aries' side even once since he arrived, and he had adamantly refused to vacate the premises overnight. Poppy reported that the whole family seemed genuinely to care for the boy, but she said one needed only to watch Sirius's bedside vigil to see that Aries was the centre of his father's universe.

Then there was the confusing matter of this new brother to Cassiopeia Black. A Squib, she had said, but Dumbledore knew as well as anyone how routinely Squibs were disowned and disavowed in the Black family. What could he have done in order to secure reacceptance into the family?

These musings were abruptly cut off by a sudden owl outside the Headmaster's window. Dumbledore let the bird into his office and removed the parchment scroll that dangled from its leg. He unrolled it and blanched at its contents.

_Dear Chief Warlock Dumbledore_, it read.

_As per your request, we have been keeping an Auror posted near the Devon residence of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. We regret to inform you that the Flamel residence was attacked early this afternoon by an unknown Dark wizard. Our Auror, John Dawlish, was killed shortly after calling for backup, as were both Mr and Mrs Flamel. Their house was thoroughly ransacked. We have no leads, as of yet, on the identity of the assailant. Our office will of course keep you posted on any further developments._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour  
Head of the Auror Office_

Dumbledore put down the parchment and sighed. He feared that he knew all too well who was responsible for his friends' deaths. He only wondered why Quirrell, who knew that the Stone was hidden at Hogwarts, would have gone after the Flamels. Unless... Dumbledore rose suddenly from his desk and headed for the third-floor corridor.

Dumbledore cursed himself for not thinking to check on the Stone's safety immediately after Quirrell's disappearance. It should have been his first thought. True, he felt certain that the protections he had placed in the innermost chamber would be sufficient to keep any would-be thieves from stealing the Stone, but one ought never to underestimate Lord Voldemort.

He opened the door to find his worst fears confirmed. Quirrell had indeed gone after the Stone before he left. Speed rather than stealth appeared to have been his primary concern. In the first chamber Dumbledore found bits of hell-hound all over the walls. The Devil's Snare had been scorched away by Fiendfyre, the magical door had simply been blasted off its hinges, McGonagall's chessmen had been reduced to rubble and the troll was slain. Dumbledore passed through the flames into the final room and approached the mirror, willing himself to retrieve the Stone. Nothing happened. The elderly wizard closed his eyes in frustration. The Stone was gone.


	26. Part I: Chapter 26

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: A hearty thank-you to all my readers and reviewers! ****And now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 26

Over a fortnight passed and Harry still had yet to regain consciousness. Madam Pomfrey told Sirius that his condition was relatively stable, which gave her some cause for hope, but the situation was still quite grim. It seemed that in addition to the Cutting Curse, there was another, very Dark curse in the boy's bloodstream, and no one knew quite what it was or how to remove it. Sirius had allowed Dumbledore and even Snape to take a look at it, to no avail. The poor boy continued to lie suffering in the infirmary. The family wanted to take Harry home to recover, but both Madam Pomfrey and the visiting Healers from St Mungo's advised against it, arguing that Harry needed constant supervision from trained medical professionals. The fact that those same medical professionals hadn't the foggiest idea of how to help him didn't seem to matter.

Sirius himself had not left Harry's side the entire time, except for a few minutes each day when Aunt Clytemnestra would bring him a change of clothes and spot him so he could wash. The other family members came by to visit about once a day, as did Remus. Draco came by whenever he wasn't in class, and he and his uncle spent many long hours talking. Most of the time, however, Sirius and Harry were all alone in the infirmary, and they had many intimate, if rather one-sided, conversations.

One morning Clytemnestra came through the doors of the hospital wing, carrying a large wicker basket in her hands. Sirius refused to leave Harry's side in order to eat, and Mopsy had been sending regular provisions via his mistress. Even so, Sirius ate very little. He hadn't much of an appetite seeing his (god)son in such a terrible condition. It worried Clytemnestra. Her great-nephew had put on a good bit of weight since he had been freed from Azkaban, but he was still quite thin, and couldn't afford simply to go without eating.

'Good morning, Sirius,' Clytemnestra said briskly. 'Any change?'

Her great-nephew looked up at her hopefully. 'I was talking with him about Quidditch last night, and I think he might have groaned a bit.'

The Squib gave Sirius an affectionate smile and handed over the basket. 'Here's some more food, as well as freshly laundered robes. You go and wash. I'll sit awhile with our Aries.'

Sirius leaned over Harry's prone body and grasped his hand. 'Don't worry, son,' he whispered. 'I'll be just a minute, and Aunt Clytemnestra will be here the whole time.' He gently squeezed Harry's hand before letting go and setting off to the bathroom. When he came back a quarter of an hour later, his hair still dripping, he found Clytemnestra singing softly to Harry:

'_Arthur my king lay dying,  
His golden crown was broken.  
Came three witches on eagle's wings  
To carry him home to Avalon.'_

Sirius chuckled softly. The old tune was one of his favourites. He joined in for the chorus.

_'Avalon, Avalon, where Merlin's magic burns bright!  
There yet reigns our good king: Arthur, the truest knight!'_

Clytemnestra looked up at him in surprise. 'That was awfully quick,' she observed.

Sirius shrugged. 'I can't stay away too long.' He grinned. 'I love that song.'

His great-aunt smiled back at him. 'It was always one of Aries' favourites. I used to sing it to him most every night when he was younger.'

'I had a teddy bear that used to sing lullabies to me as I fell asleep,' Sirius reminisced. 'I always asked for that one first.' He grimaced. 'Until I turned eight and my father decided I was too old for teddy bears.' He paused reflectively. After a few moments, he launched into the next verse in his clear baritone.

'_Stay safe, sweet child, in thine angel's care  
As gently thy life moves on,  
Till that day when through the air  
He shall bring thee to Avalon.'_

Sirius broke down in tears. Clytemnestra rose from her chair to comfort him.

'I can't lose him, Aunt Clytemnestra,' the wizard sobbed.

His great-aunt patted him lightly on the shoulder. 'Believe me, dear, I understand. I too care for the boy just as if he were my own.'

Sirius took a deep breath. 'I love the kid more than life itself, but it's not just that. I promised James I'd take care of Harry. I owe it to _him_.'

'Sirius!' Clyemnestra hissed. 'Be careful. Someone might be listening.'

Her great-nephew rolled his eyes. 'We're all alone, Aunt Clytemnestra.'

'One never knows who may be watching,' the Squib admonished.

Sirius conceded the point. 'In any event, Aries is my life now. If anything happens to him...'

'Don't even think about it, Sirius Orion Black!' Clytemnestra snapped. 'Aries will recover, and he'll be just fine. You'll see.'

'I hope you're right,' Sirius said glumly.

His great-aunt patted him on the shoulder and handed him a sandwich from the basket. Sirius tried to refuse, but she insisted, and watched him eat the whole thing.

'You have to take care of yourself, Sirius,' she chided him. 'It won't do for you to get sick as well. Who will care for Aries if something happens to you?'

Sirius sighed. 'I suppose you're right.'

'Of course I am,' his aunt replied. 'Now have another sandwich.'

Unbeknownst to either wizard or Squib, a certain Disillusioned Headmaster had been listening carefully to their every word, and at that moment slipped silently out of the infirmary through a side door. He returned to his office, his face twisted in profound thought as he attempted to divine the consequences of this momentous revelation.

* * *

Draco sat in the Common Room late at night working on his Potions homework. With his cousin's incapacitation, he had been made substitute Seeker, and he had just returned from Quidditch practice. Wood was working them like mad, and the professors had not let up at all, despite the news that one of their number had been possessed by the Dark Lord all year.

The worst part was that Draco knew he had something that could cure Aries completely, but it was locked away in Aries' trunk, sealed under a Parseltongue password. Draco had tried all the opening charms he could find, and had even tried cutting into the trunk, but there was no way through. Aries' protections were simply too powerful. Draco thought that perhaps one of the adults would be able to break into the trunk despite the password, but that would mean revealing the boys' secret, and Draco knew that Aries wouldn't want that, not if there was any other possible alternative.

Hermione Granger came up to Draco and coughed slightly. 'Er, Malfoy?'

'What do you want, Granger?' the blond boy asked with a sigh.

'I know why Quirrell attacked Black,' she said quietly.

Draco dropped his quill in surprise. 'What?' he exclaimed. 'Why's that, Granger?'

'Several weeks ago I saw you two Apparate into Gryffindor Tower,' she explained. 'I heard Black say that he was the Heir of Slytherin and the next Dark Lord.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Aries was only joking. You can't take things like that seriously.'

'I understand that now,' Granger went on, chewing her lower lip anxiously. 'But I was worried at the time.' She paused and took a deep breath. 'So I went to Quirrell to ask him for help. I didn't know he was being possessed by You-Know-Who.'

It was as though the dragon for which he had been named had been suddenly born deep within Draco's bowels. Flaming fury rose up within him at the impertinent stupidity of this foolish know-it-all girl. It was with great difficulty that Draco restrained himself from cursing her then and there.

'You meddling Mudblood!' Draco shouted. 'Do you realise what you've done? My cousin could die because of you.'

Tears came to Granger's eyes, which only made Draco angrier. How dare she cry when he was angry with her? It was so _very_ like a girl.

'I didn't mean to,' she whispered. 'I thought that you two were up to some evil plot, and I wanted Quirrell to stop you. I didn't think he'd try to kill Black.'

'You'd better hope he survives, Granger,' Draco said in a very cold voice, one that nearly sent shivers up his own spine. 'Because if he doesn't, I swear to Merlin I'll kill you myself.'

Granger began to respond, but stopped herself. Instead, she nodded meekly and went upstairs to her dormitory. Draco frowned and returned to his Potions homework, ignoring the stares of his Housemates.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Windermere Court, Cassiopeia was relaxing in the drawing room, brushing up on her Sanskrit, when her younger brother came in.

'Cassie,' he said in a grave voice. 'I need to talk with you.'

'What is it now, Marius?' Cassiopeia snapped, not even looking up from her book.

'It's about Aries,' her brother replied. 'I've found a way to save him.'

The old witch sighed and put down her book before turning to give the Squib a pitying glare through her spectacles.

'I know you want to help,' she said, 'but what can you possibly do? You're only a Squib.'

Marius frowned. 'I may not be able to do magic, Cassiopeia Virgo Black, but I remain perfectly capable of reading.' He held up the thick volume in his hands. His sister looked at the book curiously. She recognised the texture of the parchment—the book had been written on human skin.

'A bit of light reading, Marius?' she observed wryly.

Her brother grunted and plopped the massive book on the table beside her chair. He flipped it open to a spell that had been written in silver ink, or perhaps it was unicorn blood. Cassiopeia sighed and looked at the spell her brother wanted to show her. After all, it couldn't hurt to humour him. However, as the old witch scanned the manuscript her expression morphed into one of stunned disbelief.

'Great Merlin!' she exclaimed. 'Curse Transfer? Do you even realise what a difficult piece of magic this is?'

'Surely nothing you can't handle, Cassie dear.'

'We'd be breaking half the statutes on the books, you know,' his sister continued.

'Since when has that ever stopped you?' the Squib retorted.

Cassiopeia frowned. 'This is different. It's a truly nasty spell. I've only done anything like this a few times in my life. Besides, to whom would we transfer the curse? It would have to be someone we hated, since they would certainly perish in the process.'

Her brother only stood there quietly, and Cassiopeia slowly realised with mounting horror what her brother had in mind. She leapt to her feet.

'Absolutely not, Marius!' she shouted. 'I utterly forbid it.'

'I'm only a Squib,' he replied casually. 'It would be no great loss.' He gave his sister a small smile. 'I came to you because I thought you of all people might go along with it. It's the only way to save our nephew.'

Cassiopeia collapsed back into her chair. Her face had grown quite pale, and Marius thought that he had never seen her appear so vulnerable.

'First I lost Dorea,' she whispered. 'Then Pollux.' She grabbed onto her brother's hand. 'I won't lose you too, Mar.'

The Squib knelt next to her chair. 'Cassie, I'm going to die one day anyway. I've lived a very full life. Would you rather cancer took me, or a heart attack?' He laughed. 'This way I could die from a curse, like a true Black.'

Cassiopeia sniffed, and Marius handed her his handkerchief.

'Let's remember for just a moment who the boy actually is, Cassie,' he continued. 'He's Harry Potter, James's son and Dorea's last surviving descendant.'

'I'm being sentimental,' Cassiopeia said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. 'Of course you're right, Mar. You've always been very sensible. For dear Dorea's sake, we have to do whatever it takes to save our Aries.' She stroked her brother's cheek. 'You're such a brave boy,' she said fondly. 'You always were. Going off on your own into the Muggle world at the age of eleven, admonishing little Dorea not to cry. You two were always so close.'

'And I'll be with her again soon,' Marius said, standing up. He offered a hand to his sister. 'Shall we get on with it?'

* * *

That afternoon, before he left for Hogwarts, Marius stopped by his wife's boudoir. Clytemnestra was doing needlepoint.

'I'm going over to see Aries,' he announced. 'I thought I'd say goodbye.'

His wife of fifty years looked up and gave him a smile. 'Give my love to him and Sirius,' she said. 'What time shall I expect you to return?'

Marius's face fell. 'I may be awhile.'

Clytemnestra glared at her husband. 'What are you up to, Marius?'

'Nothing you need to worry about, dear,' he replied, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

His wife sighed. 'I never could stay angry with you,' she said, giving Marius a wry smile.

'Hold that thought,' her husband replied, and gave her one more kiss. 'I'll see you later, Clytemnestra.'

His wife returned to her needlepoint. 'Goodbye, Marius.'

* * *

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Marius Black walked into the infirmary to find Sirius and Draco both sitting next to Harry.

'Good afternoon, boys,' he said in a hearty voice that he did not feel. 'I ran into Professor McGonagall on the way here. She asked me to send you both over to her office to speak with her.'

'I can't leave Aries, Uncle Mar,' Sirius protested.

Marius rolled his eyes. 'I shall be here the whole time, Sirius, and she made it sound quite important.'

It took a great deal of persuading, but eventually the Squib managed to get his nephews out of the infirmary.

'Quick,' he hissed as soon as they were gone. 'We haven't much time.'

His sister lifted her Disillusionment Charm and appeared in the room. 'Lie down on the bed next to Aries,' she commanded.

Marius squeezed Harry's hand briefly before complying with Cassiopeia's orders.

'Goodbye, Cassie,' he said quietly. 'Tell Clytemnestra I'm sorry that I had to do this.'

'Goodbye, Mar,' his sister replied. 'Give my love to Pollux and Dorea.' She raised her wand and intoned the incantation: '_Transfero maledictionem_.'

The Squib let out a gasp of pain before slipping into unconsciousness. Cassiopeia did not waste a second. She Disillusioned herself again and then clutched the emergency Portkey in the pocket of her robes, which instantly carried her back to her apartments at Windermere Court.

Moments after the witch vanished Sirius came barging through the infirmary doors, accompanied by Professor McGonagall and Draco. Madam Pomfrey stopped them.

'What is the meaning of this?' she scolded them. 'I won't have my patients' rest disturbed.'

'Hold on, Poppy,' McGonagall said. 'This may be very important.'

Sirius all but ran over to Harry's bed, and gasped when he saw his Squib uncle lying unconscious in the next bed. He was very pale, and perspired profusely.

Pomfrey cast some diagnostic spells. 'He's suffering from the same curse as Aries Black!'

'The curse is contagious?' McGonagall asked, her first concern, as always, being the students' welfare.

'Wait!' Draco exclaimed. 'Aries looks better.'

It was true. Colour had returned to Aries' cheeks, his face had relaxed and he looked much more peaceful. Pomfrey cast a diagnostic spell on him, and frowned.

'I find no trace of the curse,' she said. 'It will take him some time to recuperate fully, of course, but the curse itself appears to have been purged.'

'Perhaps it leapt from Aries to Mr Black,' McGonagall suggested.

Sirius said nothing, but he had turned very white. He thought he knew exactly what had happened, but he wouldn't say anything, not in front of McGonagall and Pomfrey.

* * *

When Clytemnestra learnt what had happened, she understood immediately what her husband had done, and gave her sister-in-law a good slap before Flooing to Hogwarts. It was a mark of Cassiopeia's own sense of guilt that she bore the blow without retaliation. As soon as the Squib reached the infirmary she ran to her husband's side and clutched his hand.

'You noble fool,' she said in a soft voice. 'Why didn't you tell me what you had in mind? Did you think I'd stop you? I'd have tried, of course, but you could always persuade me to agree to anything.' She began to cry. 'That way, at least, we could have had a proper goodbye.'

She sat there holding her husband's clammy hand until late that night. Sirius sat beside her with his hand on her shoulder. He didn't know whether it was a side effect of the transferral spell, or whether it perhaps had something to do with the fact that Marius was a rather elderly Squib, but the curse seemed to attack his body far more aggressively than it had Harry's. Marius died that very night, in the hospital wing of a school he had never been permitted to attend.

He was buried a couple of days later, in a plot not far from Pollux's. Sirius insisted that he be buried in the wizarding section of the churchyard with the rest of the family, not in the Squib section. Cassiopeia provided the epitaph:

_Marius Alphard Black  
June 27, 1917 – February 1, 1992  
Here lies a true Black._


	27. Part I: Chapter 27

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I'm sorry the last chapter was so painful. I can only say that it was equally painful for me to write. However, you need not fear that this story is about to turn into a JKR-style bloodbath. Quite the opposite, actually. Thank you for your kind reviews, and for continuing to read this story. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 27

Harry woke up in the middle of the night to find himself lying in one of the beds of the Hogwarts infirmary. Sirius was propped up in a chair by the side of the bed, snoring loudly. He looked awful, as though he had hardly slept in days. Harry felt a twinge of guilt that he had made his dad worry so. He blinked his eyes several times to clear his vision and tried to sit up in bed, only to be hit by a sudden burst of pain.

'Ouch,' he moaned, and collapsed on his pillow, deciding not to try that again.

Sirius stirred at the sound. His eyes opened slightly, but as soon as he saw Harry he became fully alert.

'Har-ries!' he exclaimed, barely catching himself before he blurted out Harry's birth name. The tongue-lashing he had got from Clytemnestra after the previous incident had made the wizard resolve to be much more cautious, even at two o'clock in the morning. 'You're awake. How do you feel?'

'Horrible,' Harry croaked. 'Like a herd of hippogriffs spent the night in my skull.' He managed a half-smirk. 'But I'll bet I don't feel half as bad as you look.'

Sirius shook his head. 'You cheeky prat. Can't you be awake for an entire minute without mouthing off?'

'Not really,' Harry replied, and then broke into a coughing fit. 'I think I get it from my dad.'

'You may be right about that,' Sirius admitted.

'How long have I been asleep?' Harry asked. Judging from how exhausted Sirius looked, he would have guessed that it had to have been three or four days. Quirrell's curse must have been quite nasty.

'Just over three weeks,' Sirius said.

Harry's eyes went wide. 'Three weeks?'

His dad nodded. 'We were worried you mightn't wake up at all. You were totally unresponsive for the longest time. Nothing Madam Pomfrey tried seemed to work.'

'How did she eventually make her breakthrough?' Harry asked. He had always been interested in how Healers managed to find cures for unknown curses.

Sirius shifted nervously. 'She didn't, son. Actually, Aunt Cassiopeia and Uncle Marius figured it out.'

'Uncle Marius?' Harry looked confused. 'But he can't do magic.'

'You're wrong, Aries,' Sirius said quietly. 'He did the only magic that could cure you.'

Harry gave Sirius a hard stare. He could tell his dad was hiding something from him. 'What happened, Dad?'

Sirius took a deep breath. 'Uncle Marius found a Dark spell that could transfer a curse from one person to another. He had Aunt Cassiopeia transfer your curse to him.'

Harry sat up straight, ignoring the pain. 'Uncle Marius took my curse?' That was terrible news. Harry couldn't bear the thought of his great-uncle suffering. 'Where is he? I have to get to my trunk. I can fix it.'

Sirius shook his head sadly and placed his hand on Harry, stopping him from getting out of bed. 'No, Aries, you can't.'

'You don't understand,' Harry protested, fighting against his dad's arm. 'I can! I...'

Sirius pulled Harry into a tight embrace, and the boy stopped struggling and fell silent. 'No magic can bring back the dead, son.'

'NO!' Harry cried out. 'He can't be dead. Where is he? I've got to see him.'

'He's gone, Aries,' Sirius whispered. Harry pressed his face into his dad's robes and cried.

* * *

Early the next morning Draco burst through the doors of the infirmary to find his uncle and cousin sitting up and talking soberly.

'Aries!' Draco exclaimed. 'Thank God you're all right. I've been worried sick.'

'Good morning, Draco,' Harry said quietly.

'I suppose you've been told about Uncle Marius,' Draco said. Harry nodded curtly. 'I'm sorry. I know you really cared about him.'

'Not nearly so much as he cared about me,' Harry replied, his face a stony mask. He paused. 'Dad, could you give me and Draco a moment to talk?'

'No problem, Aries,' Sirius said, adn rose to his feet. 'I'll just go find Professor McGonagall and gather your things from your dormitory.'

After Sirius left, Harry turned to his cousin.

'Why didn't you use it, Draco?' he demanded in a harsh whisper. 'There was no need for Uncle Marius to die.'

'It was locked in your trunk, Aries,' his cousin replied defensively. 'I did my best to get it out, but there was no way to do it. I thought about telling Sirius, but you didn't want any of the adults to know.'

'You could have told him after you found out what Uncle Marius had done,' Harry pointed out.

Draco shook his head. 'McGonagall and Pomfrey were around when we found Uncle Marius. They sent me back to my dormitory, and he died later that night.'

'I would rather the teachers found out what we did than have Uncle Marius die,' Harry said quietly.

'I know, Aries,' Draco said kindly, 'but I wouldn't.'

Harry turned on his cousin furiously. 'What did you just say?'

'Do you realise what would happen if people found out what we did?' Draco demanded. 'You could go to Azkaban. Azkaban, Aries! I would rather let the world burn, myself with it, than see you get into that sort of trouble. What would you do if our positions were reversed?'

Harry thought about it long and hard, but eventually he sighed. 'I don't know, Draco,' he said quietly. 'But I do see your point. I shouldn't want for you to get into trouble either.' His eyes gleamed with furious determination. 'But I promise you this, Draco. We're never going to be in this position again.'

* * *

Madam Pomfrey examined Harry thoroughly that afternoon, and announced that he was in a well enough state to travel home.

'But I need your guarantees that he will have regular visits from a qualified Healer for the foreseeable future,' she insisted.

Sirius nodded.

'He is also to be on bed-rest for at least the next month,' the matron continued.

'A month?' Harry protested feebly, but fell silent at Sirius's glare. He accompanied his dad through the Floo back to Windermere Court. Clytemnestra and Cassiopeia were waiting for them in the drawing room.

'I'm so glad to see you awake, dear,' Clytemnestra said. Harry stepped towards his aunt, his head bowed and his expression contrite.

'I'm so sorry, Aunt Clytemnestra,' he said. 'It's all my fault.'

The Squib pulled her nephew into one of her affectionate but appropriately dignified embraces. 'No, dear, it isn't. Your uncle loved you and wanted to make sure you were all right. Any one of us would have done the same.'

Harry knew that was true, and hated himself for it. Too many people had died for him already. He made a vow to himself there in the drawing room that never again would anyone have to die to save him. Instead it would be his duty to protect those he loved.

Harry spent the next several weeks in his bed, but he was far from idle. The portraits were always around, of course, and he had regular visits from his family. Abraxas came by a couple of times a week and Cassiopeia gave him private lessons every morning. Clytemnestra took tea with him in the afternoons, and Sirius spent most of his time with Harry: talking, playing chess or cards, or going through business matters with his son.

Marius had made Harry his sole heir, on the condition that Clytemnestra be maintained at her accustomed standard of living until her death. That meant that Harry was now the owner of number seventeen, Windermere Court, as well as numerous other properties, various Muggle stocks and bonds and a fortune in liquid assets, squirreled away in both Muggle and magical banks. Sirius, as Harry's guardian, was responsible for managing his son's portfolio until he attained his majority, but he wanted to make sure that Harry understood everything that was going on with his considerable fortune.

At another time, Harry might have complained about how busy everyone was keeping him, but under the circumstances he was quite grateful. The less time he had to lie alone in his bed and think, the better. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his great-uncle's face. Marius had been the very first one to show Harry what it meant to have a family, and now he had given his life to save Harry, just as Harry's parents had all those years before.

The worst of it was that Harry knew deeply that he had only himself to blame. Cassiopeia had explained once that Voldemort had come to kill Harry as a baby because he couldn't bear the thought of a rival to his power, and now Voldemort had tried to kill him again, for much the same reason. If Harry had only been cleverer, if he could have ignored Voldemort's tricks, Uncle Marius would still be alive. For that matter, if Harry hadn't been so stupid and short-sighted as to stick the Stone somewhere where Draco couldn't get to it, everything would have been all right.

No one else blamed Harry for what happened, and that only made the boy feel even more guilty. He felt as though he didn't deserve his family's love after the pain he had caused, but they kept on giving it to him anyway, even - or rather especially - Clytemnestra, who seemed to go out of her way to make sure that Harry understood that she did not love him one whit less because of Marius's death. If anything, she loved Harry more because her husband had given his life to save him. But all her kindness and well-meaning affection only made Harry feel as though she were rubbing salt in his wounds.

Soon after his return home, Harry crept out of bed and retrieved the Philosopher's Stone from his trunk, hiding it under his pillow. He had ordered Mopsy to bring him every book from the library that dealt with it, but he found surprisingly little. Very few had ever successfully made one, and it seemed that much of its true nature remained a mystery. Everyone knew that it could be used to make the Elixir of Life, of course, as well as turn base metals into gold, but there were theories that the Stone's powers went much further.

The Philosopher's Stone was the most perfect element, and it possessed the property of communicating its perfection to whatever it encountered. It was believed to teach its owner, conveying the heights of alchemical knowledge and wisdom to those who contemplated it, but most theorists believed that the Stone, being the purest of substances, would only convey its knowledge to those who proved themselves worthy of it. Anyone could use it to produce gold or Elixir of Life, if they knew how, but true mastery of the Stone required nobility of heart and purity of intention.

Harry began to spend some time every night holding the Stone and gazing into its many-faceted depths. At first he could only bear to look at it for a few moments, but he felt as though at those moments he stood face-to-face with reality itself, and each time he approached the Stone he learnt something new. At the same time, however, the contemplation of the Philosopher's Stone was very painful. Harry began to see his own faults more clearly, his arrogance and recklessness. It exacerbated his feelings of guilt for what had happened. That was a large part of why he could not bear to hold the Stone for more than a short time, though he noticed that as time went on he was able to endure it for longer and longer periods.

One interesting thing that Harry discovered in his study of the Philosopher's Stone was that, had Voldemort managed to steal the Stone, it was very unlikely that the Dark Lord would have been able to use it without help. Exposure to the Stone seemed to act on the wounds of one's soul much as antiseptic on a physical wound. The worse one was infected the worse it hurt.

* * *

Remus found Sirius out on the terrace, leaning against the balustrade with a glass of firewhisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

'I though you didn't smoke anymore after Azkaban,' Remus commented.

Sirius exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. 'I didn't. Tobacco's hard to come by in a wizarding prison. But with everything that's going on with Harry, I decided it was time to start up again.'

The werewolf coughed a bit. 'Never could see what you and James saw in it, myself.'

Sirius shrugged. 'It's relaxing.' He grinned wryly. 'And our mums hated it.'

'James always got on well with his mum,' Remus protested. His friend chuckled.

'That's the understatement of the century. Prongs adored his mum. That doesn't mean he didn't like to tweak her nose now and again,' he said, and then let out a long sigh. 'I'm so worried about Harry, Moony. I really hope he pulls through all right.'

'He will,' Remus assured him. 'If he could survive the Killing Curse he can survive this.'

Sirius shook his head. 'It's not his survival I'm worried about, at least not anymore. The Healer says he should be able to get out of bed in the next week or so.'

'What is it, then?'

'He's so damn gloomy all the time,' Sirius said. 'We'll be playing or talking, but his heart just isn't in it.'

'He misses your Uncle Marius,' Remus said.

'It's worse than that. I think he blames himself for what happened.'

'That's not right,' Remus said. 'He's only a boy.'

Sirius snorted. 'Try telling him that.' He took another drag on his cigarette. 'Draco will be coming home for his Easter holidays soon. I think I shall ask Narcissa if he can stay here. He might be able to cheer Harry up. Then in the autumn we'll see about sending them both to Beauxbatons.'

Remus coughed slightly. 'Actually that's the reason I came over,' he said. 'Dumbledore asked me to meet with him yesterday. He knows.'

Sirius cursed colourfully. 'How much?'

'Just about everything,' Remus said. 'He said he's been piecing together clues for some time, but something you let slip when Harry was unconscious confirmed it.'

'Damn him!' Sirius exclaimed. 'He would be watching.'

'You should have realised that,' Remus said. 'I think Dumbledore knows just about everything that goes on in Hogwarts.'

'He never figured out we were Animagi,' Sirius shot back. 'Besides, I was sleep-deprived and under a great deal of stress at the time.'

'No one's blaming you, Padfoot,' Moony said. 'What's done is done.'

Sirius growled, and put out his cigarette with a vengeance. 'What does he plan to do with this information?'

'The good news is that he doesn't want to take Harry away,' Remus said. 'What he saw of you in the infirmary was enough to convince him that you have only Harry's best interests at heart, and he said something about Marius's sacrifice protecting Harry so long as he lives with members of the Black family. He also doesn't plan on revealing Harry's true identity to the world. He thinks it's safer if everyone believes him to be dead.'

'That's a relief,' Sirius replied. 'What's the bad news?'

'He asks that you cease your attempts to have him sacked by the Board of Governors, as well as your pending suit in the Wizengamot.'

Sirius frowned. 'He really deserves to suffer for what he did, but I suppose that's a fair trade. It won't matter to the boys anyway. They'll be at Beauxbatons.'

'He also insists that you allow Harry to return to Hogwarts in the autumn so that he can be trained to resist Voldemort,' Remus continued. 'If you do not comply, he says he will bring charges against Clytemnestra for kidnapping and against Cassiopeia for Dark magic and the murder of Marius Black.'

Sirius hurled his empty glass against the stone wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. 'That manipulative bastard!' he shouted. 'I'll destroy him!'

'How can you take down Albus Dumbledore?'

'I'm not sure yet,' Sirius admitted, 'but I'm sure the family will have some ideas. That man will rue the day he ever made enemies of the House of Black.'

Remus would never say it for fear of incurring his old friend's wrath, but at that moment Sirius's expression rather strongly resembled his mother's. The furious wizard marched into the drawing room, and Remus quietly followed. He owed a very great debt to Dumbledore, but he had decided to cast his lot with Sirius and Harry, come hell or high water. If war was at hand, the werewolf knew where his loyalties lay.

'Aunt Cassie, Aunt Clytemnestra,' Sirius said as he entered the drawing room, where the witch sat perusing a well-worn copy of _Magick Moste Evile _whilst the Squib played the piano. 'Professor Dumbledore has learnt our little secret and decided to blackmail us.'

There was a sudden dissonant chord. 'The impudent half-blood!' Clytemnestra exclaimed. 'How dare he?'

'I intend to teach the old fool a lesson,' Sirius went on. 'I trust you'll have something that can help us, Aunt Cassie?'

The old witch smiled. 'I thought you'd never ask.' She raised her wand. '_Accio Little Black Book!' _she intoned. Moments later, an enormous tome bound in black leather soared through the door. Remus could have sworn that it was at least a yard tall and two feet wide. It hovered in front of Cassiopeia as she unlatched it and began to flip through pages and pages of tiny print in quadruple columns.

'Aunt Cassie has been collecting dirt on every witch and wizard in Britain for decades,' Sirius explained to Remus.

'That explains why the book is so large,' his friend replied.

'Don't be stupid,' Cassiopeia snapped. 'This is only the index.' She turned several pages. 'D...D...D...Dumbledore, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian. Let's see.' She paused. 'Father was a known Muggle-hater, sent to Azkaban for an attack on Muggle children.'

'You're kidding!' Remus exclaimed, but Cassiopeia ignored him.

'Squib sister, died under mysterious circumstances. That might do, but I seem to recall there was something a bit better.' She turned the page and cackled in triumph. 'Ah yes,' she said, a cruel smile spreading across her face. 'Here we go. It seems that at some point I managed to obtain several love letters written by the Headmaster as a youth, as well as some rather embarrassing journal entries and poems from the same period.'

'How did you do that?' Remus sputtered.

'Never underestimate Cassiopeia Black,' Sirius said wryly. 'So who was the lucky girl?'

Cassiopeia laughed. 'Gellert Grindelwald.'


	28. Part I: Chapter 28

**Growing Up Black**

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I fear I have been rather remiss in responding to reviews - though I suppose you'd rather me spend my allotted time for fanfiction on writing rather than responding to reviews - but I assure you that I read and appreciate every single review, and I am very grateful for them. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 28

On a misty Monday morning in late March, Albus Dumbledore was whistling merrily as he descended down the stone staircase that led from his quarters into his office, holding a steaming cup of freshly-brewed tea in his hand. He made his way over to his large desk and turned over a few papers. He let out a quiet sigh. Alas, paperwork continued to be the bane of his otherwise happy existence. Dumbledore set his cup down and took a seat in his chair. He was surprised to notice a large envelope lying in the centre of his desk, underneath a few other papers. He had not seen it the night before. He took out his favourite letter-opener and slit open the envelope. Inside, he found a single large piece of parchment. It was completely blank.

Dumbledore unfolded the parchment and stared at it intensely. He had far too much experience with magic to think that it was simply a spare bit of parchment. After a few seconds, words began to appear. They were written in a vaguely familiar hand.

_Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs  
wish to dedicate  
this production of their new comedy  
'Turnabout is Fair Play'  
to their esteemed Professor,  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

_Enjoy!_

Dumbledore frowned at the parchment, and then there was a sudden, blinding flash of light. When Dumbledore recovered his eyesight, his entire office was plastered with photographs of himself with Gellert Grindelwald, and the harsh music of Schwartz's 'March of the Warlocks' filled the air. Over the loud music, Dumbledore could make out disturbingly familiar voices reading words that he wished desperately he could forget.

'Dear Gellert,' recited Remus Lupin's voice. 'I was thinking about your idea of internment camps for Muggles, and I think you are quite right. Such camps will prove necessary on an interim basis, until we can cement the absolute dominance of wizards...'

Dumbledore went white. How could they possibly have found out about his youthful indiscretions?

'Oh Gellert!' Sirius Black read. 'I am so glad that we have met. I have never before found another wizard of such brilliance and ambition. I think we were fated to be together...'

As if this were not quite enough, there then followed a voice that Dumbledore had never imagined he would hear again in this lifetime.

'I find I am always thinking of him,' James Potter read from a journal that Dumbledore had believed to be lost. James – or rather, Dumbledore supposed, his portrait – used every ounce of that unique talent he had always possessed to make even the most serious matters sound utterly ridiculous. 'From cockcrow to sunset, and all through...'

'_Finite Incantatem!_' Dumbledore intoned, and everything stopped. The pictures vanished, the music ceased. The words on the parchment changed, and Dumbledore looked down to read them.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore, _the letter now read.

_You should be aware that what you have just witnessed is only a tiny foretaste of what we are capable of doing. We don't care about the impact of our actions on your schemes or on any hypothetical future confrontation with Voldemort. For us, the only Greater Good is that of our family._

_Our representative will be arriving shortly in order to discuss the terms of your surrender. Remember, you started this one._

_Sincerely yours,_

_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black (and Associates)_

There was a knock on the door.

'Come in,' Dumbledore said, and in walked Cassiopeia Black, escorted by Professor McGonagall.

'Miss Black would like to speak with you, Headmaster,' said McGonagall. Her tone was annoyed. She had never got on with Cassiopeia Black.

'Thank you, Minerva,' Dumbledore replied. 'You may leave.'

The Transfiguration mistress shut the door quietly, and the Headmaster turned his attention to Cassiopeia.

'Good morning, Miss Black,' he said. 'I trust you are the representative I've been told to expect.'

Cassiopeia smirked triumphantly, and Dumbledore resigned himself to a very painful series of negotiations.

* * *

One bright morning, about a week later, Sirius swept into the dining room of number seventeen, Windermere Court. He ruffled Harry's hair and pecked Clytemnestra's and Cassiopeia's cheeks before sitting down at the head of the table. Mopsy brought him a steaming plate of eggs and sausages with a cup of tea, and the wizard dived in eagerly, humming to himself all the while. Harry, Cassiopeia and Clytemnestra all gave one another curious glances, and Harry smiled, a rare occurrence since Marius's death.

'You seem to be in a good mood, Dad,' he said.

'I am in an excellent mood,' Sirius replied. 'And why shouldn't I be? I live in a beautiful home with my strapping young son and my two lovely aunts,' – Harry and Clytemnestra blushed, but Cassiopeia only narrowed her eyes suspiciously – 'not to mention a very capable and hard-working house-elf.'

'Oh, Master Sirius is being too generous to his Mopsy,' the elf replied modestly.

'Furthermore,' Sirius went on, 'this morning I have received fresh proof that nothing is impossible if only one has enough nerve.' He flicked his wand, and three copies of _The Daily Prophet_ appeared in front of his family members.

Cassiopeia nodded her approval as she glanced at the large headline. 'I was wondering when this would come out.'

'I arranged it for today,' Sirius said. 'The anniversary of his duel with Grindelwald. It seemed appropriate.'

The others carefully read the stunning article that dominated the front page:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE RETIRES; NEW HOGWARTS STAFF APPOINTED_

_In an unexpected announcement, Albus Dumbledore, the widely revered vanquisher of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, has indicated that he plans to retire from his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the end of the current school year, _writes Aloysius Prewett, Special Correspondent._ When asked to provide a reason for his surprising decision, Professor Dumbledore said simply that he has grown weary of the many administrative burdens attached to his position, and wishes to devote his remaining years to a quiet life of research. He will be succeeded by Professor Minerva McGonagall, long-time Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration mistress and Head of Gryffindor House._

_Whilst continuing to hold his important positions in the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards, Professor Dumbledore will also be moving to Devon and beginning the monumental task of organising the books and papers of his late friend, noted alchemist Nicolas Flamel. In addition, at the suggestion of school governor Cassiopeia Black, the Board of Governors have unanimously awarded Professor Dumbledore the title of Headmaster Emeritus, with the privilege of an _ex officio_ seat on the Board of Governors and the right to nominate faculty candidates for the consideration of the Headmistress._

_Professor Dumbledore proceeded to make full use of this privilege in order to nominate two new faculty members, both of whom were promptly confirmed by Headmistress McGonagall. The first of these new teachers is Mr Remus Lupin, who will be taking up the now-vacant post of Transfiguration master. An old Gryffindor, he will also take over the new Headmistress's former position as Head of that House. The second new faculty member is Mr Abraxas Malfoy, distinguished wizard and famous duelling champion, who has generously agreed to serve as Visiting Lecturer in Defence Against the Dark Arts during the upcoming school year._

'How did this happen?' Harry asked, just a hint of curiosity in his voice. He didn't sound quite as excited as his dad would have hoped, but Harry rarely got excited about anything these days.

Sirius grinned widely. 'Let's just say, it doesn't pay to muck about with the Blacks.'

The boy's eyes went wide. '_You_ did this?'

'Well, to be perfectly fair,' Sirius said, 'it was more of a family effort. We couldn't have managed anything without Aunt Cassie's Little Black Book.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'What's that?'

'Don't worry,' Aunt Cassie said. 'I'll show you when you're older. Besides, your father is being far too modest. He's the one who raised this whole affair from a rather boring case of blackmail to a true work of art. I still can't figure out how you Charmed that parchment to have so many simultaneous effects.'

Sirius laughed. 'Come now, Aunt Cassie. You know that a Marauder never reveals his secrets.'

* * *

'I must say, Sirius, I was impressed that you were able to pull it off,' Narcissa said as she handed her cousin a cup of tea. It was a pleasant afternoon in early April, and the two were sitting on the terrace of Malfoy Manor. 'Aunt Walburga wouldn't have believed it. She never thought you'd amount to anything more than a mischievous prankster.'

Sirius took a sip of his tea, then grinned. 'Well, in a way, this was all simply a very elaborate prank,' he said. 'Dumbledore never saw it coming.'

"Lucius was furious,' Narcissa said with a small laugh. 'He's been trying unsuccessfully to unseat Dumbledore for years, and now you and Aunt Cassie manage it on a whim.'

Sirius's expression suddenly turned very grave. 'It wasn't a whim, Cissy. We had a very good reason to do what we did.'

Narcissa nodded. 'How is Aries doing?'

'Much better, thank you,' Sirius replied. 'He's able to sit up for most of the day now, and the Healer's encouraging him to take short walks in the garden every morning and afternoon.' He smiled faintly. 'I'm hoping he'll be up to riding a broomstick again by summer.'

'How about you?' she pressed. 'How are you handling all this?'

'Not very well,' Sirius admitted. 'Aries may be improving physically, but I'm worried about his emotional state. He's depressed all the time. He's perfectly polite, but he never seems actually interested in anything.' He sighed. 'I'll ask him if he wants to play chess or cards, and he'll say, "All right, Dad, whatever you like." But if I don't initiate it, he'll sit alone all day gazing at the wall.'

'Do you think there's anything we can do to help?' Narcissa asked.

Sirius took a deep breath. 'Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about that. I was wondering whether Draco might be able to spend the Easter holidays with us. I know Aries has missed him, and I thought that perhaps if they got to spend some time together it might help Aries to get back to normal.'

'Lucius won't like it,' Narcissa said with a frown. 'He's been positively delighted that Draco's spent this term away from Aries. He's always felt that the boys spend rather too much time together.'

Sirius snorted in anger. 'What do you think, Cissy?'

'I've always regretted that Lucius didn't want us to have any more children, and I'm very pleased that Draco has Aries. They're all but brothers.' Narcissa sat up straight and gave Sirius a resolute nod. 'Have no fear, Sirius. One way or another, I'll get Lucius to agree. If I have to, I'll go to my father-in-law.'

'I could have done that,' Sirius said cheekily. 'Dad would never refuse me anything.'

Narcissa laughed. 'You're right about that. I've no idea how you managed to persuade him to take up the post of Defence master.'

'Well, technically, he's not a fully-fledged teacher,' Sirius pointed out. 'He's a visiting lecturer, not an employee of the school, and he was adamant that he not be paid a salary.'

'Still, I never thought I'd live to see the day when Abraxas Malfoy would consent to instruct schoolchildren.'

Sirius shrugged. 'He likes me, I suppose,' he said. 'Besides, he'd do anything for Aries.'

Narcissa sighed. 'Yet another reason for Lucius to dislike the both of you.'

'No offence, Cissy,' Sirius said, 'but the feeling is mutual.'

'None taken,' Narcissa assured him. 'One cannot survive for long in the House of Black if one expects all one's family members actually to get along with one another. I think it would drive one slowly mad.'

Her cousin smirked. 'So that's the reason, is it? Poor Mum, if I'd only known.'

Narcissa rolled her eyes and took another sip of tea.

* * *

To his wife's surprise and delight – and, ultimately, her everlasting regret – Lucius proved remarkably agreeable to the suggestion that Draco spend the Easter holiday with Aries. Not only did he express concern for his nephew's well-being, but he even volunteered to collect Draco at the train station, something which had never happened before. Therefore, when Draco disembarked from the Hogwarts Express, he was simply overjoyed to find his father waiting for him.

'Dad!' he exclaimed, and gave his father a hug. Lucius hugged him back stiffly. 'What are you doing here?' the blond boy asked excitedly. 'You've never come to pick me up before.'

'I've missed you, Draco,' Lucius said as they left the platform. 'We never got much of an opportunity to speak after the unfortunate incident with the Squib.'

'I've missed you too, Dad,' Draco replied. 'I'm glad to see you.'

Lucius smiled at those words. He relished his son's affection.

'How was school?' he asked.

Draco shrugged. 'It's all right, though I have to say it's been a bit boring without Aries.' He looked at his father hesitantly. 'You wouldn't happen to have heard anything about how he's doing, would you?'

Lucius frowned unconsciously at his son's concern for the Black brat. Nonetheless, making use of Draco's weakness was a necessary part of the plan.

'Alas, he seems to have fallen into a bit of depression,' Lucius said. 'Your Uncle Sirius says that he doesn't show much interest in anything. That's why your mother and I thought it might be a good idea for you to spend your holiday at Windermere Court.'

'Really?' Draco seemed surprised. 'Do you really want me to spend the whole holiday with Aries and Uncle Sirius?'

Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'Don't you think it a good idea?'

Draco paused reflectively. 'I do. I've spoken with Aries quite a bit using the mirror that Uncle Sirius gave him, and he has seemed different.' He looked at his father quizzically. 'I'm just a bit surprised that you would approve. You've never liked Aries.'

'Draco, your cousin is your closest friend,' Lucius replied, with all the affection he could muster. 'What matters to him matters to you, and therefore I care what happens to him.' He withdrew a parcel from his coat. 'In fact, I've even thought of something that might be able to jolt Aries out of his foul mood.'

'What's that?' his son asked eagerly, and for the first time, Lucius felt the tiniest twinge of guilt at what he was planning to do. He squashed it as one might a pesky mosquito, reminding himself that it was really for Draco's sake that all this was necessary.

'At certain times in my life, I've found that writing one's thoughts in a diary can be very therapeutic,' Lucius said. 'It gives one the opportunity to work through one's emotions.'

Draco nodded reflectovely. 'I suppose that's true. I don't know whether it's the sort of thing Aries would go for, though.'

Lucius smiled at his son. 'I have procured a very special enchanted diary for you to give to Aries,' he said. 'This diary is capable of responding to whatever one writes in it, thus enabling one to pour out one's most secret thoughts and fears without ever worrying that anyone else will know, but at the same time to reap all the benefits of an actual conversation.'

Draco was impressed. 'That might actually help, Dad,' he said. 'Thanks.'

'There's one very important thing you must promise me before I give you the diary, however.'

'What is it, Dad?'

'This diary is not exactly legal,' Lucius told him in a low voice. 'The fewer people who know about it the better. Don't tell your Uncle Sirius or your Aunt Cassiopeia. For that matter, I shouldn't even tell Aries who gave it to you. I trust them all, of course, but...'

'Even the walls have ears,' Draco finished, and nodded. 'Good point, Dad. I really appreciate what you're doing for Aries.'

'For you, Draco,' Lucius said, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. 'I'm doing everything for you.'

After dinner that evening, Draco and Narcissa Flooed over to Windermere Court. Abraxas's gout was acting up, so he retired early, commanding Dobby to draw him a hot bath. No one was around to notice as Lucius slipped out of Malfoy Manor and Apparated to a distant shack built on the very edge of a high cliff, on a rocky island somewhere in the North Sea. The weather was stormy, and Lucius pulled his woollen cloak tight to keep out the icy rain. He knocked on the door three times, and it creaked open. Lucius hurried inside.

The inside of the shack was mostly dry, but that was about all one could say for it. The thin walls did virtually nothing to keep out the biting wind, and the tiny fire flickering in the grate provided only a modicum of warmth. In an old armchair beside the fire sat Quirinus Quirrell, his eyes closed. Quirrell was seldom awake these days, but the same was not true of his master.

Lucius knelt on the dirty floor. 'I have come, my lord,' he said.

'Welcome, Lucius,' the Dark Lord greeted him, his high, cold voice seeming to come from the back of Quirrell's head. 'I hope you like my humble abode.'

'I do wish, my lord, that you would allow me to secure you more...appropriate accommodations,' Lucius pleaded. He was tired of having to come out to this miserable hellhole.

'As I have told you, Lucius,' the Dark Lord hissed, 'this island has certain useful magical properties. In the absence of unicorn blood, it is the best I can do to maintain my strength.' He paused. 'What of your mission? Have you completed it?'

'It is done, my lord,' Lucius said quietly. 'My son will pass your diary to the Black brat as you commanded.'

Even in his weakened state, the Dark Lord's voice could still send chills up Lucius's spine. 'Are you certain the boy will not fail to do as you have instructed?'

'I am, my lord,' Lucius replied.

'Well done, Lucius,' the Dark Lord said. 'That impudent whelp thinks he can usurp my rightful title without repercussions. We shall show him how wrong he is. We shall show him what it truly means to be the Heir of Slytherin.'


	29. Part I: Chapter 29

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I am exceedingly grateful to all of you for continuing to follow the story so far. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 29

It took very little time for Draco to realise that it was a good thing he had agreed to spend the Easter holiday with his cousin. Aries was doing much better physically, but he seemed to move about the house listlessly, never taking much interest in anything. He did anything Draco suggested, but he never suggested any games or activities of his own. He congratulated Draco on taking his place as Seeker, but he made virtually no response when Draco emphasised that it was only temporary, and they everyone would be glad to have Aries back in the autumn.

Late one evening during the first week of the Easter holiday, Aries and Draco were playing a game of Exploding Snap on Aries' bed when Mopsy suddenly Apparated into the room. She bowed low to her young master.

'The room Master is requesting is ready,' she informed him.

'Finally!' Aries exclaimed, showing a hint of enthusiasm for the first time in ages. As far as Draco knew, it was the first time since Marius's death.

'What is it, Aries?' he asked eagerly. He felt that anything that could distract his cousin from his ongoing feelings of guilt and grief had to be a good thing.

Aries rose to his feet. He was still rather wobbly after his prolonged recuperation, but at least he was no longer confined to his bed. He stuck an arm under his pillow and removed the Philosopher's Stone before turning to Draco and grinning widely.

'How about I show you?' he said, and Draco nodded. 'Mopsy, take us over to the laboratory,' Aries commanded. The house elf grabbed each boy by the hand, and the three of them vanished.

They reappeared in a dimly-lit room Draco had never seen before. Three long workbenches stood in the centre of the room, and the stone walls were lined with shelves containing thick volumes in dead languages, a bewildering variety of rare and expensive potion ingredients, and numerous cauldrons of various shapes and sizes.

'Where are we?' Draco asked.

'This is old Uncle Phineas's private laboratory,' Aries explained. 'He was quite the potions expert, apparently, and conducted numerous experiments right here in the house. It's enchanted so that only the owner of the house, or those he admits, can find it or enter it. I don't know whether Uncle Marius even knew about it, but Mopsy certainly did. When I asked her whether there were any place in the house where I could work on some experiments in absolute privacy, she told me about the room. It was in a terrible state, but she's been cleaning it up for me.' He turned to the house elf. 'Thank you, Mopsy. You may go. We'll call you when we need you to take us back to our bedrooms. If anyone looks for us, tell them we're sleeping.'

'Yes, Master,' Mopsy replied, and Disapparated with a loud pop.

Draco looked around the laboratory in astonishment. 'Aries, this place is brilliant! I bet even old Snape would kill to have a laboratory like this.'

His cousin snorted. 'I bet Snivellus would kill for a lot less.'

'True,' Draco agreed. 'So what experiments did you have in mind?'

An unearthly light shone in Aries' eyes. 'We're going to brew the Elixir of Life,' he said solemnly.

Draco frowned. 'Who's ill?'

'No one yet,' the boy replied. 'But I don't want us ever to be caught unawares again. We're going to brew a large batch of the Elixir, and we'll each keep a flask on our person at all times. We'll store the rest here in the laboratory, and I'll command Mopsy to be on alert to bring us a flask if she ever hears of any family member who is suffering from a potentially-mortal illness. If we're unavailable, she'll bring it to Dad, and on down the line.'

'It looks like you've thought it all out,' Draco said, impressed at the amount of work Aries had put into this, even whilst bedridden. 'Have you told Uncle Sirius about the Stone?'

Aries shook his head. 'It's far too dangerous. If anyone ever learns that the Stone is here, they'll undoubtedly try to steal it. That was Dumbledore's mistake. If he wanted to hide the Stone successfully, he shouldn't have told anyone where it was.'

'Good point. So we're the only ones who know?'

'Us and Mopsy,' Aries said. 'But Mopsy is under strict orders never to mention the Stone to anyone, under any circumstances. Since I'm her owner now, she has to obey me even over Dad and the rest of the family.'

Draco pouted. 'That's convenient. You're so lucky. I wish I had an elf of my own like that.'

Aries frowned at his cousin. 'Think about what you just said, Draco.'

The blond boy looked confused for a moment, and then turned deathly pale as he realised the only circumstances which could enable one to inherit full ownership of a house elf.

'I'm so sorry, Aries,' he stammered. 'I didn't mean it that way. I wasn't thinking.'

'That's all right,' Aries responded quietly. 'I understand. Just try to think before you speak next time. That's one of the first things the Stone taught me. Words are very powerful. We ought never to use them flippantly.'

'Sorry,' Draco repeated. He paused. 'So how do we make the Elixir? What book did you find the directions in?'

'There is no book,' Aries replied. 'We shall have to consult the Stone itself.'

'You make it sound like it's alive,' Draco said uncomfortably.

Aries furrowed his brow pensively in response to that. 'The Stone isn't alive, or at least I don't think so,' he said after a moment's reflection. 'It's more as though it's made out of life, or rather, the Stone and life are made out of the same thing.'

Draco stared at his cousin blankly. 'I don't follow you.'

Harry chuckled. 'I suppose it is difficult to grasp. After we brew the Elixir, I'll let you look into the Stone, and you can see for yourself what I'm talking about.' He sat down on a stool behind one of the workbenches and held the Stone several inches directly in front of his face.

Draco watched curiously as his cousin began to stare into the Stone. After a few moments, Aries began to wince. A few minutes later, he began to groan in pain. Nonetheless he continued to stare into the Stone, seemingly mesmerised by its hidden mysteries. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and the Stone began to glow. Suddenly Aries cried out and dropped the Stone onto the workbench.

'Are you all right, Aries?' Draco asked, putting his hand on his cousin's shoulder.

'I'm fine, Draco,' Aries said weakly. 'It just takes a lot out of me, is all.' He grimaced and forced himself to sit up straight. He rubbed his temples for a moment before glancing at Draco. 'Fetch a solid gold cauldron, please,' he said. When Draco made no move to comply, Aries turned to look directly into his cousin's eyes.

Draco gasped. Aries' eyes were brighter than ever, and they seemed no longer to be blue, but rather green. Moreover, they bore a sad, world-weary look, as though they had seen far too much of the world's sorrows ever again to be light-hearted and carefree.

'Draco,' Aries said slowly, 'I'll be all right. But we need to begin brewing the Elixir. Please fetch a solid gold cauldron.'

Draco nodded and walked over to the shelf on which the cauldrons were stacked.

'Er, Aries?' he said once he got there. 'They're all pewter.'

Aries sighed. 'That's not a problem, Draco,' he said. 'Just bring a medium-sized cauldron over here.'

Draco selected one of the cauldrons and set it on the workbench in front of his cousin. Aries picked up the Stone and closed his eyes. He carefully touched it to the edge of the cauldron, and in an instant the pewter was transformed into pure gold.

'Great Merlin!' Draco exclaimed. Aries ignored him.

'Fill the cauldron two-thirds full of pure water,' he said hoarsely. He still sounded utterly exhausted.

'Where shall I get the water?' Draco asked, looking around the room. There didn't seem to be a tap.

Aries gave his cousin a wry smile. 'May I suggest the Aguamenti Charm?'

'Oh, right,' Draco said, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, and began filling the cauldron from his wand. 'Um, Aries? Not that I mind, but why didn't you just cast the charm yourself?'

'I'm far too tired to do any magic at the moment, Draco,' Aries replied, holding his head in his left hand. 'It always takes me at least a few hours to recuperate after gazing into the Stone.'

'You're too tired to do any magic?' Draco asked in concern. 'That can't be good. What if you use Parseltongue?'

Aries shook his head. 'I find that Parseltongue doesn't come to me as easily as it once did,' he replied. 'Ever since I began using the Stone, the Parseltongue seems to slip farther and farther away.' He glanced down at the cauldron. 'Stop,' he said, and Draco complied. Aries took a deep breath. 'Now levitate the cauldron onto a tripod and light a blue fire underneath it.'

It was well after midnight when Draco finally finished pouring the wine-red Elixir into small diamond flasks – Aries had insisted that only diamond flasks were good enough to contain the Elixir of Life.

'How much gold did these flasks cost?' Draco asked in awe.

Harry smiled at his cousin. 'A single diamond flask costs upwards of twenty thousand Galleons.'

Draco dropped the flask he was holding, and it dented the stone floor.

'Where did you get the gold?' he demanded.

Harry shrugged. 'I had Mopsy use all the allowance I'd saved up to buy scrap metal. With the Philosopher's Stone to turn it into gold, that was just enough to pay for one diamond flask.'

'But there must be a hundred flasks here,' Draco protested.

'Fortunately, diamond flasks are eminently well-suited to the Duplication Charm, ' Aries replied. He looked as though he were trying not to laugh.

For the umpteenth time that night, Draco's cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he quietly resumed his work. Once he was done filling the flasks, he placed all but two of them on an empty shelf. Of the other two, one he gave to his cousin, and one he slipped into the pocket of his own robes. Aries summoned Mopsy, and the elf Apparated them each to their own rooms.

The feather bed was warm and comfortable, and Draco was exhausted, but he found that couldn't sleep at all. He tossed and turned, but all he could think of was Aries' exhausted face, and the cry of pain he had let out after several minutes of holding the Stone.

After breakfast the next morning, he took Aries into the drawing room alone and confronted him.

'I've been thinking about last night,' he began. 'I don't like the effect the Stone has on you.'

'What do you mean?' Aries asked coolly.

'You said it makes you feel tired, and I saw how much pain it caused you,' Draco said firmly. 'It makes you too weak to use magic, and it even makes it harder for you to use Parseltongue. It can't be good for you.'

'You don't understand, Draco,' Aries said wearily. 'When I look into the Stone, everything becomes clear. It's like seeing the daylight for the first time. How can I possibly give that up?'

Draco chewed his lower lip. 'I've heard how withdrawn you've been these several weeks,' he said. 'I've seen it myself.'

'I'm still dealing with Uncle Marius's death,' his cousin retorted defensively.

'I know,' Draco said. 'But I think it's more than that. You brighten up whenever you're talking about the Stone. For just a moment last night, I caught a glimpse of the cousin I know so well. But you don't care about anything else. That can't be healthy.' He paused. 'There's more,' he whispered. 'What colour are your eyes?'

'Blue,' Aries replied automatically. 'You know that.'

'They are now,' Draco agreed. 'And they are most of the time. But last night, after you gazed into the Stone, they turned bright green.'

Aries went pale. 'R-really?' he stammered in a high, nervous voice. 'That's odd.' He sat down in a high-backed armchair, looking utterly terrified. 'What's going on, Draco?'

'I don't know, Aries,' Draco said. 'The Stone is a very powerful magical object, and you_ are_ only eleven. Maybe you should leave it alone for a few years. We've made enough Elixir to take care of any emergencies.'

'I don't want to give up the Stone,' Aries replied. 'It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen.'

'I'm not asking you to give it up,' Draco said, placing a hand on his cousin's shoulder. 'Just take some time away from it. It will still be there when you're a bit older.'

Aries sighed. 'Maybe you're right,' he said. 'It does make me feel awfully tired.'

'I'm sure that when you're older you'll be able to deal with it better,' Draco said kindly.

Aries took a deep breath. 'All right, then. I'll have Mopsy put it into the laboratory for the time being. I'll tell her not to fetch it for anyone except us.'

The boy was as good as his word, but the results were not pleasant for anyone. He went from only caring about the Stone to not caring about anything, and he spent the remainder of the holiday in a terrible mood. Draco tried to interest Aries with tales of what was going on at Hogwarts and how the Quidditch team were doing, but Aries grew sullen, and paid him little mind. To make matters worse, he was sleeping poorly, so he became irritable and snappish, not only with Draco, but also with the other members of the family, and even with Mopsy, whom he had always adored. Everyone noticed, but no one except Draco knew the cause. Aries would glare at Draco accusingly whenever anyone mentioned the disturbing change in his behaviour, but Draco was adamant that his cousin keep his word. Aries' reaction to separation from the Stone only served to confirm Draco's opinion that the Stone was dangerous, and that Aries ought never to have been exposed to it at so young an age. Draco was beginning to wish devoutly that they had never stolen the dratted thing.

On the last day before he returned to Hogwarts, Draco gave Aries the diary.

'I think this might help you to feel better,' he said. 'It will give you the chance to vent as much as you like, and the diary's even enchanted to respond to you, so you'll feel like you're talking to a real person.'

Aries smirked. 'Only without making life miserable for everyone around me.'

'That's the general idea,' Draco replied with a grin.

'I'm sorry, Draco,' his cousin said glumly. 'I've been a terrible host.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'You nearly died a couple of months ago, Aries. I think I can overlook it. Just try to get better, all right?'

Aries smiled at him. 'I'll do my best.'

'And promise me you'll try the diary,' Draco went on. 'I really think it might help.'

'I promise,' Aries replied. 'Thanks for the get-well present.'

Draco laughed. 'Don't mention it.'

* * *

The next day, after Narcissa came by to collect Draco, Harry went upstairs to his bedroom and took out the diary. Having spent the better part of the last two months handling the most powerful magical object believed to exist, Harry knew instantly that what he held in his hands was no ordinary enchanted journal. It was a powerful magical object in its own right, and somehow, Harry got the sense that it contained something even more precious than the Philosopher's Stone.

He ran his fingers along the spine, and felt a sharp pain in his forehead. The pain was excruciating, but Harry found it relatively easy to ignore, because he simultaneously felt a strange sense of exultation. The part of his mind that he used to speak Parseltongue, which had been strangely quiet over the past several weeks, had suddenly reasserted itself with a vengeance, and Harry felt alive and strong again. In some ways, this new feeling was similar to that of contemplating the Stone: Harry experienced an exhilarating clarity and sense of purpose. He smiled as it washed over him. He found that he had missed it desperately.

At the same time, Harry could sense that there were major differences between the diary and the Stone. Gazing upon the Stone had always been accompanied by a sense of quiet sorrow, like the song of a phoenix in all the old stories, and Harry had always felt strangely small afterwards, as a small child might feel all alone in the middle of an enormous desert, with the infinite blackness of the starry firmament stretching overhead. This new feeling was far more...pleasant. As he held the diary, Harry felt large and powerful, as though all the stars in the sky were nothing compared to him and his destiny. And whereas the Stone had all too often made Harry feel like a dirty little boy sticking his nose where it didn't belong, the diary felt as though it belonged with him. There was a kinship between them; they were alike in some fundamental way that Harry did not yet understand, but which he fully intended to explore.

He opened the diary and took out his quill.

_This diary, and all its secrets_, he wrote in his neat, elegant hand, _are now the property of Aries Sirius Black, the true Heir of Slytherin._

His words vanished, and new words appeared in a different hand.

_Hello, Aries Sirius Black. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle._

THE END OF THE FIRST PART OF _GROWING UP BLACK._


	30. Part II: Chapter 1

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers! I am exceedingly grateful to all of you for continuing to follow the story so far. I intend to write the later parts simply as a continuation of the story. Think of it as a single-volume edition of _The Lord of the Rings_! The second part is planned to cover Year Two through Year Four, and the third part will cover Year Five through Year Seven. And so it begins...**

* * *

Chapter 1

'I'll get you, Black!' Draco Malfoy shouted, firing a Stinging Hex at his cousin from atop his broomstick. It was the last week of summer, and the two boys had gone with Sirius to stay with Melania Black at the family chateau in the south of France. 'You ought to know better than to cross Lord Draco the Malevolent.'

Harry dodged the hex with ease, and fired off his own curse in response, a nasty little spell he had invented only a week before with a bit of help from his magical diary and the wizard whose memories it contained: Tom Riddle.

'_Magnadoleo_,' he whispered, and Draco cried out in pain, nearly falling from his broomstick.

'NO UNFORGIVABLES!' he shouted over his shoulder. 'That's always been the rule.'

'I didn't use an Unforgivable,' Harry replied smoothly, the edges of his lips twitching a bit.

Draco flew around and hovered directly in front of his cousin. His expression was livid.

'Yes, you did,' he growled. 'That was the Cruciatus, Aries. It hurts!'

'It wasn't the Cruciatus,' Harry insisted. 'It's a new spell I invented.' He smirked. 'Though I suppose it might have been inspired by the same principle.'

'You're not playing fair,' Draco snapped.

Harry yawned. 'All's fair in love and war. Besides, how is it any different from a Stinging Hex?'

'It hurts a hell of a lot worse!'

'That's a difference of degree, not kind,' Harry pointed out.

Draco sighed. He knew when he was beaten. 'Fine,' he said petulantly. 'But the gloves are coming off now.'

Harry let out a robust laugh. 'Good. I want you to try your best, cousin. We'll see who's been stuck at Hogwarts and who's been home taking lessons with Aunt Cassie.'

Draco flew off, grumbling, and Harry gave chase. He was amused at his cousin's reaction to the curse. He and Riddle had specifically designed it to give pain without inflicting any damage or leaving any traces. Riddle thought that it might prove a useful way of controlling one's minions. Harry didn't give much thought to minions at this point in his life, though he was always interested in gaining the edge in a friendly duel.

Draco swerved around and fired off a series of curses. Harry blocked most of them, but one got through, slashing a gash in his left arm.

'Damn you, Malfoy,' Harry swore, and fired off a Bone-Breaking Curse in response.

Draco executed a perfect flip, barely moving himself out of the way of Harry's curse. Unfortunately for him, he moved the tail of his broom directly into Harry's line of fire.

'_Reducto!'_ Harry shouted, and the back of his cousin's broom exploded. Draco hurtled towards the ground, and Harry dived to intercept him. He manoeuvred his broom into Draco's path, and his cousin landed roughly in Harry's waiting arms.

'I win, I think,' Harry said with a grin.

'Sod off, Aries,' Draco said bitterly. 'That was my new broom.'

Harry shrugged. 'I'm sure Granddad will buy you a new one.'

'He won't be happy about it.'

'Tell him we were duelling and I destroyed it,' Harry said nonchalantly. 'It will suddenly become a remarkable display of my prodigious talent.'

Draco scowled at his cousin, mostly because he knew Harry was exactly right.

Harry and Draco glided gently to the ground, where Sirius was waiting for them with a frown on his handsome features.

'You're bleeding, Aries,' he observed. 'And what happened to your broom, Draco?'

'Aries blasted it into oblivion,' Draco growled, hopping off his cousin's broomstick.

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'You two have been playing rough this summer,' he observed. 'You never used to cast anything so dangerous.'

'We're growing up, Dad,' Harry said. 'We've got to keep ourselves challenged.'

'Well, I suppose I can't argue with that,' his dad replied. 'Though I wish you'd be more careful with each other. If I didn't know better, I'd get the idea that you didn't much like each other.'

Harry laughed, but Draco scowled at him. Sirius sighed and waved his wand, instantly healing Harry's cut.

'Unfortunately, your broomstick won't be so easy to fix,' he said to Draco. 'Aries will buy you a new one out of his allowance.'

Harry groaned, but knew better than to complain. He supposed it was fair. He _had _purposely destroyed his cousin's broomstick. Draco, for his part, brightened up considerably after Sirius's announcement and shook hands with his cousin.

'Congratulations, Aries,' he said. 'That was an excellent duel.'

'Thank you, Draco,' Harry responded graciously. 'You put up quite a fight.'

Once it was clear that everyone was once again on amicable terms, Sirius Summoned two broomsticks from the chateau, handing one to Draco and mounting the other.

'So, who's up for a race?' he asked as he floated into the sky. 'Brooms only. No wands allowed.'

Harry and Draco exchanged grins and followed Sirius into the air.

* * *

On September 1, Sirius and Narcissa took Harry and Draco to King's Cross in order to catch the Hogwarts Express. Sirius gave his son a long hug before taking him aside for a private chat.

'I'm glad to see you're doing better after what happened with Uncle Marius,' he said quietly. 'But are you sure you're ready to go back to school?'

'I'll be fine,' the boy replied casually. 'Life goes on, right? Besides, you've stationed Granddad and Uncle Moony there to spy on me, so I shan't be able to go around provoking duels with Dark Lords in disguise.'

Sirius laughed. 'Well, try not to give either one of them too hard a time, all right?'

'I'll do my best,' Harry replied with a smirk.

His dad ruffled his hair. 'I know,' he said. 'That's what worries me.'

Harry gave a hug to his aunt and then he and his cousin boarded the train, making their way through the crowded corridor to their favourite compartment. Four sixth-year Hufflepuffs were already sitting there. Harry opened the door and leaned casually against the frame.

'Get out,' he commanded, in the same tone Pollux had always used with recalcitrant house elves. 'This is our compartment.'

'Says who?' demanded a burly boy with brown hair.

'Me, of course,' Harry retorted.

'And who are you?' asked a blonde girl.

Harry stared at her incredulously. 'Who am I?' he snorted. 'I am Aries Sirius Black, only son to Sirius Black by his late wife Regina Malfoy, heir to the fortune of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Who are you?'

'Come on, Aries,' Draco muttered. 'We can find somewhere else to sit.'

'No, Draco,' Harry insisted. 'We will not be pushed around by a bunch of Hufflepuff peasants. This is our compartment.'

'We were here first,' said the burly boy.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Like I care. You have thirty seconds to vacate the compartment before I curse you all into oblivion.'

'There's four of us, and only two of you,' pointed out the blonde girl.

'Not to mention we're sixth-years,' added the redhead sitting next to her.

'Fine,' Harry said. 'Have it your way.' He brandished his wand and Transfigured the burly boy into a baboon. Another flick, and the blonde girl was a parakeet. Harry smiled at the remaining Hufflepuffs.

'Shall I continue?' he asked courteously.

Moments later, the compartment was empty, and Harry and Draco moved in to take possession.

'One must always be firm with the rabble, Draco,' Harry said as he stowed his trunk. 'If one gives them an inch, they'll always take a mile. Riddle says that the secret to obtaining and maintaining power is to make it absolutely clear from the beginning just who's master.'

'Who's Riddle?' Draco asked curiously as he took out a couple of Chocolate Frogs from his trunk. He tossed one to Harry, who caught it easily.

'Oh, just someone who wrote a book I've been reading,' Harry replied, and bit off the head of his frog.

A few minutes later, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson appeared at the door. Draco jumped to his feet, but Harry lounged back casually in his chair.

'Hello, boys,' Pansy said. 'Did you two have a good summer?'

'Yes, thank you,' Draco replied, but Harry laughed.

'How could it possibly have been enjoyable without the benefit of female companionship?' he said. 'Come sit by me, Daphne, and tell us all about what you've been up to.'

Daphne looked at Harry strangely, but did as he told her. She sat at the edge of the seat next to his, being careful to maintain very good posture. Pansy giggled and sat down next to Draco.

'My family and I spent the summer in Majorca,' Daphne began. 'My sister Astoria and I had a grand time. We've never been to Majorca before. The weather was simply marvellous. What did you do?'

'Oh, Draco and I always spend the summer with my great-grandmother at our chateau in France,' Harry replied.

'You have a chateau in France?' Pansy exclaimed. 'That must be wonderful.'

Harry shrugged. 'It's nice enough. The food is always fantastic. Granny has very exacting standards.'

'What did you do there?' Daphne asked.

'We played Quidditch,' Draco replied. 'Then we had several hex wars. Aries smashed my new broom to bits, and his dad made him buy me another one.'

Harry turned and gave his cousin a glare. 'Well, if you hadn't been so stupid as to fly your broom right into my line of fire, I'd never have got a clean shot.'

'What's this I hear, George?' Fred Weasley's voice came from the corridor. He stuck his head of flaming red hair through the door, and his twin brother joined him after a second.

'It's sounds as though there's a bit of dissension within the Dynamic Duo,' George said, a grin on his face.

'It's good news for us,' Fred went on. 'We may finally be able to reclaim our rightful dominance.'

Harry and Draco laughed.

'Dream on, Weasleys,' Harry said. 'You can either join us, or be crushed.'

'We favour the take-no-prisoners approach to warfare,' Draco warned drily.

George smirked. 'So we've heard. We saw what you did to poor Gregory Zeller.'

'What did he ever do to you?' Fred asked. 'A baboon? Really?'

Harry chuckled. 'He was sitting in my seat.'

The twins looked both impressed and a bit wary.

'Remind us never to get on your bad side,' George said.

'Won't you introduce us to your friends, Draco?' Pansy asked pointedly.

'Oh, I'm sorry, Pansy,' Draco said. 'These are Fred and George Weasley. Fred and George, these are our friends Pansy Parkinson and her cousin Daphne Greengrass.'

'Nice to meet you,' Fred said.

'You're in Slytherin, aren't you?' George asked.

'Yes,' Daphne replied coolly. 'Does that bother you?'

The twins shrugged.

'Not really,' Fred said.

'Any friend of Aries and Draco is a friend of ours,' George added.

Just then, Ron Weasley passed by the compartment.

'Just wait till Mum finds out what you said,' he said huffily to his brothers. 'She told you this summer not to have anything more to do with them.'

'Bugger off, Ron,' Fred snapped.

'And you better not say anything to Mum, or Aries might Transfigure you into a baboon,' George threatened.

Harry laughed. 'Don't insult me, George. For Ronniekins, I should think I could come up with something much more...creative.'

The twins smirked and glared at their younger brother.

'You'd better watch out, Ron,' Fred said. 'Aries is one scary bloke.'

* * *

That evening after the Sorting Feast, Remus stopped Harry just before he left the Great Hall.

'Move along, Draco,' he said to the blond boy. 'I just have a small matter to discuss with Aries.'

Draco nodded and joined the mass of students heading up to Gryffindor Tower. Remus led Harry to his office.

'Congratulations on the new job, Uncle Moony,' Harry said once they were inside and he was comfortably seated in an overstuffed armchair.

'Thank you, Aries,' Remus said, pouring them each a cup of tea. 'Of course, you and I both know that my task here is about loads more than just teaching Transfiguration. I'm mostly here to help keep an eye on you.'

'I know,' Harry replied with a long sigh, and took a sip of his tea.

Remus raised an eyebrow. 'Of course, your dad and I do know what it's like to be twelve, and I have received explicit instructions from certain individuals not to do anything that might keep "boys from being boys."'

Harry chuckled. 'That's a relief. I was beginning to worry how I'd manage any mischief with a former Marauder as my Head of House.'

'Do make an effort to keep things beneath my notice,' Remus warned. 'If you're too blatant, I'm afraid I'll have to take action.'

'I do like a bit of a challenge,' Harry said cockily.

The edges of Remus's mouth twitched slightly. 'Is that why I heard this evening that you took on four sixth-years on the Hogwarts Express?'

'They were sitting in our compartment,' Harry said defensively. 'And I gave them plenty of warning. You can ask Draco.'

'Still, I'm afraid I have to take five points from Gryffindor for your actions,' Remus said. His tone was stern, but his eyes twinkled. 'Transfiguring older students so you can steal their seats is not appropriate behaviour.'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said evenly.

'It was, however, very impressive work,' the new Transfiguration master continued. 'I've never seen anything like it from a second-year. I'll give you five points for the baboon, and ten for the parakeet. Human-to-monkey's not so difficult, but human-to-bird is truly brilliant.'

Harry smiled. 'Thanks, Uncle Moony.'

'Now run along up to your dormitory,' Remus said. 'And don't hesitate to come to me if you run into any trouble this year.'

'I shan't,' Harry promised. 'Good night.'

'Good night, Aries.'

* * *

Late that night, after everyone else was asleep, Harry sat up behind his bed curtains, writing in his diary. He found Tom Riddle to be an utterly fascinating individual. He knew better than to trust him, of course – what fool would trust some random book that could speak for itself? – but he felt that he could make use of him to learn the secrets that the diary clearly possessed.

_So, Black, are you going to seek out the Chamber of Secrets this year, as I suggested?_ Riddle wrote.

Harry groaned. _How you do go on about that, Riddle! _he wrote back. _One would almost think you had some sort of vested interest in my visiting the Chamber._

_You are the Heir of Slytherin, _Riddle replied, and Harry could almost hear the mocking tone. _Or at least that's what you claim._

_Shut up, Riddle. I may be the Heir of Slytherin, but I have no desire to set his monster loose on all the Muggleborns. They're not all as bad as all that._

_They're filthy blights on the wizarding world, that's what they are! _Riddle wrote back angrily. _They don't deserve to live._

Harry chuckled. _Strange to hear stuff like that coming from you, Riddle, _he wrote. _ Especially since I've never heard of any pureblood family with your surname. Was your dad a Muggleborn?_

There was a long pause before Riddle finally wrote back.

_You don't know anything about my father._

Harry laughed aloud. _He was, wasn't he? What is it with all these half-bloods becoming blood supremacists? It's like you all think you have something to prove. There's you, of course, and Snape – he was a Death Eater – and then there's Voldemort himself._

There was another long pause.

_Voldemort? Who's that, Black?_

_A half-blood bastard with an over-inflated ego, _Harry wrote back. _He thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and set himself up as a Dark Lord awhile back. Pretty impressive too, I must say. He nearly killed me last time we fought. Of course, the first time we fought I nearly killed him, so I suppose that makes us even._

_If you're really so powerful, why don't you become a Dark Lord yourself? _Riddle asked.

_All my family want me to, _Harry wrote. _Except for my dad and cousin. I think they'd rather I didn't go mad and start murdering Muggles for fun. I've always thought it sounded like too much work with not enough reward. Why make all those enemies and have to live in hidden fortresses and such when one can just get along with people and play Quidditch and spend lots of gold?_

Harry sensed a flash of amusement from the diary, and his forehead began to ache. He ignored the discomfort. His head had been hurting off and on ever since he had first encountered the diary. He supposed it was because it was such a powerful magical object. The Philosopher's Stone had caused him pain too, though in rather a different way.

_Maybe you don't want to be a Dark Lord because you've never realised what it would really be like, _Riddle wrote. _Haven't you ever imagined having the entire world tremble at the sound of your name? Just think of it, Black, you could fix everything. You could put an end to people like that annoying Ron Weasley and his friend Finnegan, and those idiot Hufflepuffs. You could teach all us uppity half-bloods our proper place. Everyone would know who you are._

_Aunt Clytemnestra always says that if someone doesn't know who a Black is, that someone isn't worth knowing_, Harry shot back. _Anyway, I'm tired. I'm going to bed now._

_Good night, Black._

_Good night, Riddle._

Harry slipped the diary beneath his pillow and went to sleep. That night, as on most nights since he had begun to write in the diary, he had a very strange dream.

He was sitting on a throne-like chair in the centre of a dark room. A group of wizards in robes and masks knelt before him and kissed the edge of his robes.

'Well?' Harry demanded in a cold, cruel voice that sounded vaguely familiar. 'What news from our operation in Sussex?'

'Success, my lord,' said the leader of the masked wizards. He sounded very much like Uncle Lucius. Harry supposed that it might be Draco as an adult. 'Caractacus Weasley will no longer be a thorn in your side.'

Harry felt a thrill of delight. 'Well done,' he said. 'You will be rewarded for your faithful service to your master. What of the attack in York? Nott?'

Another of the wizards bowed his head and stepped backwards.

'M-my lord,' he stammered. 'Dumbledore arrived at the last minute. He was too much for us. We had to leave.'

Harry narrowed his eyes at the unfortunate wizard in front of him. 'Did you at least manage to assassinate Crouch at his speech? That was the whole point of the endeavour, after all.'

Nott hung his head. 'No, my lord. I beg your forgiveness.'

'That's all the more unfortunate for you, Nott,' Harry drawled. 'You should know by now that I do not forgive. _Crucio!_'

Nott collapsed to the floor in agony, and Harry let out a long, exhilarated cackle.


	31. Part II: Chapter 2

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Hearty thanks to all those who have persevered with my story. As for all those who have decided it is not for them, I wish you well! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 2

Harry found it surprisingly easy to slip back into the rhythm of school after his prolonged absence. McGonagall's Hogwarts differed little from Dumbledore's: classes and Quidditch continued in their customary patterns; portraits continued to gossip and staircases continued to move. There was perhaps a bit less whimsy, and a bit more focus, but such things were indefinable aspects of the group dynamic, and had little effect on the students' day-to-day activities.

Wood was delighted to have Harry back on the Quidditch team.

'It's not that your cousin isn't a fair flyer,' he explained at the first team meeting. 'He's good, and we nearly got the Cup last year. But with you flying, I don't think the other teams even stand a chance.'

As for classes, Harry found that his teachers from the previous year had not changed much in his absence. Flitwick was still easily excitable, and Snape easily annoyed. The two new teachers, however, managed to create quite a stir. Remus was brilliant, as Sirius had told Harry he would be. He had a knack for producing captivating lessons that could manage to hold the interest of advanced and remedial students alike, which was no easy feat. He focussed on explaining why Transfiguration worked as it did, unlike McGonagall or even Cassiopeia, both of whom strongly preferred the rote method. Harry had no problems with rote memorisation – he doubted he could have advanced nearly so far as he had with any other approach – but he found Remus's approach very interesting, even when he already knew the magic they were studying.

Abraxas, as always, marched to the beat of his own drum. In their first Defence class, he strode into the classroom at precisely the second their lesson was scheduled to begin, and slammed the door shut with a flick of his wand.

'I am Abraxas Hippocrates Malfoy,' he announced. His voice was not particularly loud, but it was deeply resonant, and easily filled the classroom. 'I shall teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. My first expectation is that you will arrive to class on time. I shall shut the doors at the beginning of each class, and if you arrive late, you will quickly discover that the doors will not open for you. That means, of course, that if you come even one second after I do, you will receive a failing mark for that day.'

'Seems a bit harsh, doesn't he?' Finnegan whispered to Weasley.

'What do you expect?'Weasley whispered back. 'He's a ruddy...'

There was a sudden flash, and all sound ceased to come from Weasley's mouth. He continued moving it for a few seconds before he realised what had happened, then he panicked. Finnegan tried to ask what was wrong, only to find that he was likewise incapable of speech.

'My second rule,' Abraxas continued wryly,' is that no one else speaks when I do. If you do interrupt me, I shall ensure that you do not do it again for the remainder of the lesson. As for my lectures, you will find that I shall not waste my time and yours with repeating what you ought to have read in your textbook. I shall assume that you have read what you were supposed to, and if you do not, it will be your loss. I shall not repeat anything that I say. If you do not hear me the first time, it is your responsibility to find out from others who have been paying better attention. Do you have any questions?'

Of course, Hermione Granger raised her hand at once. She had been avoiding Harry ever since he came back, and he was perfectly happy with that turn of events. He didn't know if he could restrain himself from cursing her if they should ever come into close contact. It was her fault Uncle Marius was dead.

Abraxas nodded at her. 'Yes, girl?'

'I have a question about the textbook,' Granger said. 'The author says that many of the restrictions on Dark magic are outdated and useless, but I disagree.'

'Do you?' Abraxas asked in a cold voice. Harry and Draco smirked at each other. They knew what was coming, having been on the receiving end of Abraxas's ire on more than one unfortunate occasion. 'And what grounds do you have for disputing the conclusion of Sebastian Selwyn, the leading British expert on the Dark Arts and my own brother-in-law?'

'Well, sir,' Granger began, demonstrating conclusively that she was in fact a Gryffindor, '_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _says...'

'I don't care about that rubbish,' Abraxas snapped. 'I want to hear your considered opinion, based on your own long years of study and research.'

Granger opened and shut her mouth. 'I don't understand, sir.'

'Don't come in here and presume to lecture me on what _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _says or does not say,' the distinguished wizard continued. 'I am perfectly aware of what the author of that book has to say, and if I had wanted you to adopt his opinion I should have assigned you his book to read. If you raise your hand in my class, I want to know your opinion, based on your own experience.'

'But I don't have any experience, sir,' Granger said in a small voice.

'Of course you don't,' Abraxas replied. 'You are a silly, ignorant girl who thinks that she can impress me by citing the work of other wizards. In other words, you know less than nothing. It is better for you to remain silent than to announce that unfortunate fact to the entire class. Ten points from Gryffindor. Are there any other questions?'

All hands remained firmly down. Harry chuckled and decided to play with his grandfather a bit. He raised his own hand.

Abraxas sighed. 'Yes, Mr Black?'

'I'm sorry, Professor Malfoy,' Harry replied. 'But I too have a problem with our textbook.'

'What is it?' his grandfather asked, an eyebrow raised. He had made it abundantly clear to both boys over the summer that he would not tolerate any cheek from them simply because they were his grandsons.

'Well, sir, Selwyn claims in Chapter Seventeen that the Unforgivable Curses are the most perfect and efficient means of killing, causing pain, and controlling another's will that can ever be created. As it were, they are the distillation of their respective purposes.'

'I know that, Mr Black,' Abraxas snapped. 'Go on.'

'I disagree with him,' Harry said brazenly. 'What he says seems to be true of the Killing Curse, but the Cruciatus Curse causes harmful side-effects in addition to pain. Furthermore, the Imperius Curse can be resisted. Mightn't it be possible to create a curse that controls the victim's will entirely, so that there's no chance of resistance?'

'It is an intriguing hypothesis, Mr Black,' Abraxas replied. 'However, there has been much research done in the field, and it is accepted that any improvement on the Unforgivable Curses is impossible.'

Harry smirked. 'I disagree, sir.'

Abraxas turned pink, and Harry fully expected him to erupt just as he had with Granger. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco catch his grandfather's eye and gently shake his head, simultaneously moving his hand in a slithering motion. Abraxas nodded, and regained control of himself with some difficulty.

'You are entitled to your opinion, Mr Black,' he said. 'However, as I said to Miss Granger, you are not an expert, and I don't really care what you think. Ten points from Gryffindor.'

That settled, he went on with his lecture. Harry was far too clever, however, to consider the matter closed, and was completely unsurprised when his grandfather asked him to stay after class.

'I will not tolerate disrespect from you, Aries,' Abraxas said sternly.

'I meant none, Granddad,' Harry replied earnestly.

'Then what is your basis for disagreeing with those who know better than you? Why do you think it possible to improve on the Unforgivables?'

'I've done it,' Harry said simply.

Abraxas's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. 'What do you mean, you've improved on the Unforgivables?'

'I've done some work on the Cruciatus Curse,' Harry explained. 'It tends to cause secondary damage in the victim, as well as leaving numerous traces that make it easy to detect. I created a different pain-inducing curse over the summer, based on the same basic principles as the Cruciatus. I haven't tested it at full strength yet, but the preliminary trials have been most promising.'

His grandfather stared at him curiously. 'Write up your research,' he told Harry. 'I should very much like to see what you've done. If you're right, that would utterly revolutionise one of our foundational presuppositions.'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said, and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back. 'By the way, Granddad, have you ever heard of someone named Tom Riddle?'

Abraxas went deathly pale. 'Where did you learn that name?' he demanded.

'I read it somewhere,' Harry replied truthfully. 'Who is it?'

'No one you need concern yourself with, my boy,' Abraxas replied abruptly. 'Just a boy who was a couple of years behind me at school.'

That piqued Harry's interest. He had no idea why his grandfather was being so evasive.

'Thanks, Granddad,' he said, and made his way to lunch, privately resolving to find out exactly who this Tom Riddle fellow was, and why his grandfather was so hesitant to talk about him.

* * *

A few weeks into term, Abraxas and Remus met up with Sirius and Cassiopeia at the Three Broomsticks in order to discuss Harry's progress. Sirius ordered firewhisky for all the men, and gillywater for Cassiopeia.

'Very well, gentlemen,' he began after casting a muffling charm around their table. 'How's Aries doing?'

'He's back on the Quidditch team,' Remus said. 'Wood's thrilled about that. He got into a bit of trouble with some sixth-years on the Hogwarts Express, but he proved more than up to the challenge.'

'What did he do?' Sirius asked.

'He Transfigured a boy into a baboon and a girl into a parakeet because he wanted their compartment,' Remus said, shaking his head. 'I was probably too soft on him, but it reminded me very much of the sort of thing you or James might have done.'

Sirius chuckled. 'What else?'

'Snape blames Aries for Dumbledore's departure, and has been taking it out on him pretty strongly,' Remus said.

'Slimy git,' Sirius muttered.

'He also has dropped some fairly large hints that he suspects Aries of being deeply involved in the Dark Arts,' the werewolf went on.

Cassiopeia sniffed. 'As though that were a bad thing.'

'Filthy half-blood,' Abraxas snorted. 'It's a disgrace that he's Head of Slytherin House.'

'That aside,' Sirius interrupted, 'have you any more news about Aries?'

Remus shook his head. 'He gets along with some of his classmates, but not with others. He plays pranks in his spare time. He doesn't study much but seems to do well in all his classes. He's a Marauder, Padfoot.'

'I'm afraid I must disagree with you somewhat, Professor Lupin,' Abraxas said. 'Aries may be a "Marauder", as you put it, but there are other things going on. I think he's playing his cards very close to his chest.'

'What else would you expect from the heir of the House of Black?' Cassiopeia asked wryly. 'He's been specially bred for slyness.'

'You're right, of course,' Abraxas replied, taking a long sip of firewhisky. 'But I am nonetheless intrigued by his behaviour. The other day he informed me that he has invented a refined and improved version of the Cruciatus Curse.'

Cassiopeia cackled with glee, but Remus and Sirius spewed their firewhisky all over the table.

'I hardly object to that line of research, of course,' Abraxas went on. 'I asked him to write a paper describing his findings, and they appear to be sound. I should like your opinion, Cassiopeia.'

'Naturally,' the witch replied.

'You may approve, Dad,' Sirius said, 'but I don't much like the idea that my son has been secretly developing improved Unforgivables under my nose.' He sighed. 'I suppose he has been acting strangely of late, a bit colder, but I attributed that to Uncle Marius's death.'

'Don't worry, Sirius,' Cassiopeia said, patting his arm. 'We all have to go through this phase before we become adepts of special magic. There's nothing to be concerned about.'

'Actually, dear lady, there is,' Abraxas continued with a frown. 'At the same meeting in which Aries informed me of his new discovery, he asked me whether I knew anything about Tom Riddle.'

Remus and Sirius stared at Abraxas blankly, but Cassiopeia only narrowed her grey eyes.

'That is disturbing,' she said.

'Who's Tom Riddle?' Sirius asked.

'Tom Riddle is the birth name of the Dark Lord,' Abraxas explained. 'It is known only to a very select group of his closest followers. I, myself, had to pay a very high price before I learnt that the Dark Lord was in fact my old school fellow.'

'Did you tell Aries this?' Remus asked.

'I did not,' Abraxas replied. 'I see no reason to toss around such dangerous knowledge. My concern is simply as to why Aries was asking about it in the first place.'

'Did he give no explanation?' Cassiopeia asked.

'None,' Abraxas sniffed. 'He claimed that he had read it somewhere.'

Sirius stroked his beard pensively. 'He was nearly killed by Voldemort several months ago. Maybe he's trying to learn more about him.'

'I don't think that's it,' Abraxas said, shaking his head. 'The way he asked made me think that he hadn't any idea who it really was that he was asking about.'

'Keep your eyes and ears open,' Sirius said. 'Maybe we can find out some hint of what he's up to.'

'Aren't you going to ask him about it?' Remus asked.

'I trust my son, Moony,' Sirius said. 'He'll come to me if he needs to. I don't want to be overprotective.'

* * *

That evening, Sirius, Cassiopeia and Clytemnestra sat quietly in the drawing room of Windermere Court. Clytemnestra was playing some Beethoven quietly on the piano, whilst Sirius read a mystery novel and Cassiopeia looked over Harry's essay.

'This is really very impressive work, Sirius,' she commented. 'I've never seen anything so advanced from a twelve-year-old. I don't know whether his new curse is capable of the same power as the Cruciatus, but it's certainly an intriguing idea.'

'What have I done wrong?' Sirius moaned. 'He's the perfect Black.'

'Watch the whinging, Sirius,' Clytemnestra said from the piano. 'Besides, there's nothing wrong with being the perfect Black.'

'James and Lily would kill me, you know,' Sirius said. 'I've raised their son to be the sort of boy who works on improving the Unforgivables for fun.'

'I doubt you had very much to do with that, dear,' Cassiopeia said. 'Don't forget, you've only been out of prison for a couple of years. I've been tutoring him for much longer than that.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I can't believe I went along with it.'

'It's not as though you had much choice,' Cassiopeia snapped. 'You had either to go along with my plan or allow Dumbledore to send potentially the most powerful wizard in centuries to live with those wretched Muggles.'

'Good point,' Sirius conceded. 'I just wish it hadn't come to this.'

'You worry too much, Sirius,' Clytemnestra said. 'There's nothing wrong with a good theoretical grasp of special magic. Even dear Marius liked to dabble in the theory.'

'Precisely, Clytemnestra,' Cassiopeia replied. 'Why, I...' She trailed off and held her hand to her head. 'My head,' she moaned. 'It hurts.' After a moment, she collapsed in her chair. Sirius and Clytemnestra jumped up and ran to her side. She was very pale and clammy. Sirius checked her pulse.

'It's very weak,' he said. 'We need to get her to St Mungo's now. MOPSY!'

The house elf appeared in the drawing room and bowed. 'Yes, Master Sirius?'

'Pop over to St Mungo's and get a Healer at once,' Sirius commanded. 'Miss Cassie is very ill.'

Mopsy paused. 'Is Miss Cassie being in mortal danger, Master Sirius?'

'Possibly!' Sirius snapped. 'So hurry!'

'Just a moment, Master,' Mopsy said, and vanished. She reappeared a moment later with a brilliant flask of wine-red liquid. She handed it to Sirius. 'Master Aries commanded Mopsy to fetch this if ever any of the family were being in mortal danger, Master Sirius,' she said timidly. 'Master Aries is saying it will be curing any illness.'

Sirius had only a split second to decide. Cassiopeia seemed to be fading fast. He swore and popped the top off the flask, then raised it to Cassiopeia's lips and poured the whole thing down her throat. Within seconds, colour returned to her cheeks and she began to stir.

'What happened?' she asked, smacking her lips.

'I'm not sure,' Sirius said quietly, staring at the empty flask. 'Where did you get this, Mopsy?'

'Mopsy is fetching the Elixir from Master Aries' secret laboratory,' the house elf said dutifully.

'Did Master Aries make this?' Cassiopeia asked. Her voice was quite strong, and Sirius thought she seemed a bit younger than she had before. She had fewer wrinkles, and her hair was slightly darker.

'Yes, Miss Cassie,' Mopsy said.

'How?' Sirius demanded.

'Mopsy isn't supposed to be telling anyone, Master Sirius,' the elf replied. 'Master Aries has explicitly forbidden Mopsy from telling.'

'Well, I order you to tell me,' Sirius said.

Mopsy shook her head. 'Mopsy is belonging to Master Aries,' she said. 'Mopsy is having to obey him first of all.'

'You blasted elf!' Sirius growled, but Clytemnestra placed her hand gently on his arm.

'Just a moment, Sirius,' she said, before rising from her chair and going over to where Mopsy stood. Clytemnestra crouched down beside her.

'You're a very good elf, Mopsy, to keep your master's secrets so well,' she said. 'And Master Aries must be a very powerful wizard, to be able to brew such a medicine. Did Master Aries tell you the name of the medicine he brewed?'

'Yes, Mistress,' Mopsy said.

'Did your Master forbid you to tell us the name of the medicine?'

'No, Mistress.'

'What is it?' Clytemnestra asked with a smile.

'Master Aries is calling it the Elixir of Life,' the elf replied dutifully.

'Thank you, Mopsy,' her mistress said. 'You're a good elf. You may go.'

Mopsy bowed and vanished.

'That explains it, Sirius,' Cassiopeia said, her eyes gleaming. The wizard frowned in response.

Clytemnestra shook her head. 'I can't believe it. Aries brewed the Elixir of Life? But where would he get a Philosopher's Stone?'

Sirius began to pace back and forth across the room. 'Fact: for all his talent, Harry is not talented enough to create a Stone on his own.'

'Are you sure of that?' Clytemnestra asked.

'Yes,' Cassiopeia snapped. 'To create a Philosopher's Stone requires decades of perseverance. There simply hasn't been enough time.'

'Furthermore, the practice of "special magic" is generally considered to be incompatible with the creation of the Stone,' Sirius pointed out.

'You seem to know an awful lot about the Stone, Sirius,' Clytemnestra observed.

Her nephew chuckled. 'After my parents disowned me, I briefly contemplated making a Philosopher's Stone to resolve my money troubles. I gave it up when I realised how much work was involved, but not before I'd done a good bit of research on the subject.'

'Fact,' Cassiopeia said. 'The only known Stone was in the position of Nicolas Flamel.'

'Fact: the Flamels were both murdered by an unknown Dark wizard shortly after Harry's confrontation with Voldemort,' Sirius added.

'There's no way Aries could have obtained the Stone after they were murdered,' Clytemnestra said. 'He was in hospital for weeks, and then here for weeks after that.'

'Which means that he had to have obtained the Stone before his confrontation with Voldemort.' Sirius lit up a cigarette. For once, the ladies didn't complain about him smoking in the house.

'But if the Dark Lord was the one who killed the Flamels, as seems likely,' Cassiopeia mused, 'then he too must have had an interest in the Philosopher's Stone.'

'Of course,' Sirius said. 'If Voldemort's a disembodied spirit, he would do anything to obtain the Elixir of Life.'

'But if he wanted the Elixir of Life, why didn't he go to the Flamels directly?' Clytemnestra asked. 'Why waste his time at Hogwarts?'

'Voldemort wanted the Stone,' Sirius thought aloud. 'He was at Hogwarts. Harry somehow got the Stone. He was at Hogwarts. There's only one possible conclusion.'

Cassiopeia nodded. 'The Stone too was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore and Flamel were friends. Flamel must have suspected that someone would try to steal the Stone and given it to Dumbledore for protection.'

'Harry figured it out somehow,' Sirius added. 'I'll bet he had Draco's help. They stole the Stone.' He snorted. 'Probably thought of it as a brilliant prank.'

'But somehow the Dark Lord found out,' Cassiopeia said.

'And that's why he attacked Aries,' Clytemnestra finished.

Sirius sighed and sat down hard on the sofa. 'I may have to confront him about this after all.'


	32. Part II: Chapter 3

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 3

'Fred! Keep your eyes on the Bludgers!' Wood shouted. 'That one nearly hit Alicia!'

Harry rolled his eyes. The Gryffindor Quidditch team were practising in a very heavy downpour. It was no wonder the Bludger had nearly hit Alicia—it was nearly impossible to see even to the edge of one's own broomstick. As for finding the Snitch, Harry might as well have been searching for a flea on a hippogriff.

They sat out in the rain for another half-hour before Wood finally conceded that it was time to them to go in. The team let out a collective sigh of relief at the announcement, and gathered up all the balls. Just as they landed, however, Katie Bell let out a screech.

'It's a Grim!' she shouted, pointing towards an enormous black dog who sat in the stands, completely drenched by the falling rain. Harry laughed.

'That's no Grim,' he said. 'That's my pet dog.'

'What's your dog doing at school, Aries?' George Weasley asked.

'My dad must have brought him,' Harry replied, setting off towards the stands. 'I'll go see if he's around.'

'Shall we wait for you?' Fred asked.

'Nah,' Harry replied. 'You go back up to the castle. I'll see you all later.'

The rest of the team made the long trek back indoors, whilst Harry climbed up the steps to where Sirius was sitting. He was wearing a wide, doggy grin, and his tail was wagging vigorously.

'What are you doing out here in the rain?' Harry asked, scratching his dad behind the ears.

Sirius let out a loud bark and leapt to his feet. He motioned for Harry to follow him with a jerk of his head. Harry sighed and set off after his father. Sirius led Harry to the Whomping Willow, where he crept on his stomach to the trunk and pressed a small knob. The Willow ceased its whomping, and Sirius led his son into a tunnel.

'Where are we going, Dad?' Harry asked.

The dog barked once, but did not stop. Eventually they came to the end of the tunnel and passed through a trapdoor into an abandoned house. Sirius shook himself dry and transformed back into a human.

'Welcome to the Shrieking Shack,' he said. 'I thought we could talk here for a bit. It brings back a lot of happy memories.'

'If you fancied a chat, why didn't you just collect me in the Great Hall like a normal parent?' Harry asked cheekily.

'Because I'm not a normal, boring parent,' Sirius replied, sitting himself down on a dusty sofa. 'And this seemed like much more fun.'

Harry smiled and sat down next to his dad. 'All right, then. What did you want to talk about?'

'First, I wanted to let you know that Aunt Cassie came down suddenly with a severe case of Cranial Cramps,' Sirius began.

Harry's eyes widened in concern. 'Cranial Cramps? But those can be serious! Is she all right?'

'She nearly died,' Sirius said soberly. 'But she's perfectly well now, thanks to Mopsy and the Elixir of Life she brought.'

'That's good,' Harry said with relief, and then realised what exactly Sirius had said. 'Oh. So that's why you want to talk.'

'Partly,' Sirius replied. 'Harry, when were you going to tell me that you'd stolen a Philosopher's Stone?'

'How do you know I stole it?' Harry shot back defensively. 'I might have made it. Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions?'

Sirius only sighed and looked at the boy sadly. 'What's the third rule, Harry?'

Harry looked down at his toes. 'I'm sorry, Dad.' He took a deep breath. 'Yes, I took the Philosopher's Stone.'

'Why?' Sirius asked. 'Did you and Draco think it would be a fun prank?'

'That's why Draco went along with it,' Harry replied. 'But it was my idea. I wanted the Stone so that no one else in our family would ever have to die.'

Sirius raised his eyebrows. He honestly had not expected that answer. 'But Uncle Marius hadn't died yet when you took the Stone,' he pointed out.

'No, but both Great-Granddad and Great-Grandfather had died within a year of each other,' Harry replied. 'I didn't want to lose anyone else.'

'Why didn't you tell me, Harry?' Sirius asked. 'I thought we trusted each other.'

'I suppose that part of me was scared that you'd make me give it back,' Harry said quietly.

'If the Flamels were still alive, you'd be right,' Sirius said. 'But they're gone, and I refuse to hand the Stone over to Dumbledore. He's dangerous enough without it.'

'I also didn't want too many people to know the secret,' Harry said. 'I thought that if too many people knew about the Stone it would attract attention.'

Sirius laughed. 'And so you ended up telling too few,' he said. 'If you had told me in the beginning, we could have kept it between you, me and Draco.'

'Don't forget Mopsy,' Harry added.

'And Mopsy,' Sirius corrected. 'But I had to figure it out on my own, and now Aunt Cassie and Aunt Clytemnestra know too.'

Harry winced. 'You're right. I should have told you sooner. If I had, maybe you could even have managed to use the Stone to save Uncle Marius.'

Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'I wasn't going to bring that up, but you're right, of course.'

'I fouled up,' Harry said dully.

'Indeed,' his dad replied. 'It happens to the best of us. But what lesson have you learnt from this misadventure?'

'Don't keep secrets from you,' Harry mumbled. 'You'll figure it out anyway.'

'Exactly,' Sirius replied. 'I thought you had learnt that lesson when you crashed my broomstick.'

'It _looked _all right after that Reparo,' Harry protested.

Sirius snorted. 'But it flew worse than a dying hen.' He paused. 'Now, are there any other secrets you wanted to tell me?'

Harry thought for a second. He didn't particularly want to tell his dad about the diary. He rather thought that Sirius wouldn't approve of it, and he didn't want to give it up. He didn't _think _that Sirius could have figured it out, but, then again, Harry hadn't thought Sirius would ever have been able to find out about the Philosopher's Stone. And there was something about the way Sirius was asking. He had his lower lip curled the way he always did when he was asking a question to which there he was expecting a very particular answer. Harry took a deep breath.

'Yes,' he said. 'At Easter, Draco gave me a diary. He thought I was becoming obsessed with the Stone, and he thought it might help me to deal with my feelings over Uncle Marius's death. It's really a wicked diary. It writes back, you see.'

'It writes back?' Sirius asked. 'Jokes and whatnot?'

Harry shook his head. 'No, it's like a real person. Riddle and I have actual discussions. He's helped me with my research, and he's given me loads of brilliant ideas.'

Sirius looked as though he had seen a ghost. 'Was this Riddle the one who helped you improve the Cruciatus Curse?' he asked coldly.

Harry nodded eagerly. 'Granddad says my work is revolutionary. He thinks...'

'Do you know who Tom Riddle is, Harry?' Sirius asked evenly.

'No,' Harry said, shaking his head. 'Granddad does, though, but he won't tell me. He must be a very powerful wizard, though. I thought that perhaps if I could find him, we might be able to work together.'

Sirius grabbed Harry by the shoulders roughly. 'Are you out of your bloody mind?' he shouted.

'D-dad, what's going on?' Harry stammered. 'You're frightening me.'

'Well, you're sure as hell frightening the shit out of me!' Sirius shot back.

'You know who Riddle is, don't you?' Harry said in a small voice.

Sirius scowled. 'Tom Riddle is the scum who murdered your parents, and damn near murdered you.'

'You mean the Dark Lord?' Harry whispered, all blood draining from his face. 'I've been plotting and joking and doing research with the Dark Lord?'

'I can't believe you'd do something so stupid,' Sirius went on, rising from the sofa and beginning to pace. 'Who knows what kinds of Dark magic Voldemort put into that bloody thing? You could have been killed, or even possessed!'

'I'm sorry, Dad,' Harry said. He had never seen Sirius so angry. 'I fouled up.'

'You're damn right you fouled up!' Sirius retorted. He picked up a rickety old chair and smashed it against the wall. 'I should have seen this coming. You've been different all summer. I just thought it had something to do with Uncle Marius's death, but no, you were having a grand old time refining Unforgivables with the bastard who killed him!'

Tears began to stream down Harry's face. 'I'm sorry, Dad,' he sobbed. 'I didn't know.'

'And what was Draco thinking, giving you a cursed object like that?' Sirius went on obliviously. 'Where would he even find something that belonged to Voldemort?' The realisation struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he fell silent. Sirius set his jaw and narrowed his eyes dangerously. 'Harry,' he said quietly. 'Take me to your dormitory. I want the diary.'

Harry sniffed and nodded. He led Sirius back through the tunnel up to the castle. They dripped water and mud all over Filch's clean floor, but the old Squib didn't dare to say anything once he caught the feral glint in Sirius's eye. They went up to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry ran up to fetch the diary. Draco was in the Common Room talking with the Weasley twins. He started when he saw his uncle, and frowned at the upset look he had seen on Harry's face.

'What's wrong, Uncle Sirius?' the blond boy asked hesitantly. 'Is everything all right?'

Sirius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 'Yes or no, Draco. Did your father tell you to give that diary to Aries?'

Draco paused. His father hadn't wanted anyone to know, but he couldn't lie to Uncle Sirius, not when he asked a direct question.

He nodded. 'Yes, Uncle Sirius.'

Sirius made no response, but stood there clenching and unclenching his fists. Harry came down a moment later with the diary. Sirius snatched it from his hands and stuffed it in his pocket.

'You two stay here,' he commanded. 'I have business to attend to.'

He turned around on his heel and stormed out of the Common Room. Draco looked at Harry curiously.

'What's going on, Aries?' he asked in confusion. 'Is Uncle Sirius upset because the diary isn't technically legal?'

* * *

Sirius stormed like a raging hurricane into his father-in-law's office. Abraxas was advising a seventh-year Slytherin on his prospects for a career in the Ministry.

'Get the hell out,' Sirius snarled, and the unfortunate seventh-year practically stumbled over himself in his quest for the door.

'What is going on here, Sirius?' Abraxas asked indignantly. 'This is not civilised behaviour.'

Sirius slammed the diary on the wizard's desk. 'This diary belonged to Tom Riddle,' he spat. 'It contains his memories and thoughts, and my son has been merrily making friends with him since Easter.'

Abraxas turned slightly green. 'That's how he managed such advanced work on the Cruciatus Curse,' he murmured. 'A schoolboy ought never have come into contact with such a dangerous object. He could have been killed, or worse.'

Sirius nodded. 'And guess who gave my twelve-year-old son this cursed diary? None other than his best friend, Draco Malfoy.'

'But how would Draco...?' Abraxas trailed off, and horror dawned on his aristocratic features. 'Good God! Surely not!'

'You've been very good to me, Dad,' Sirius said coldly. 'I thought you had the right to know that I'm on my way to send your good-for-nothing son straight to hell.'

Abraxas was unable to speak as he watched Sirius leave his office. He opened his mouth to ask him to wait, not to be so impetuous, but no sound came out. Only after Sirius had left could he recover his composure enough to lock the diary in his desk drawer, leave the office and seek out Remus Lupin.

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa were sitting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor, enjoying a sumptuous dinner. The food in general was excellent, though of course Lucius was always able to find flaws.

'The pork loin is a bit underdone,' he said to Dobby in a languorous voice. 'You mustn't forget to punish yourself most severely for it later this evening.'

'Yes, Master Lucius,' Dobby replied reluctantly.

Suddenly, a chime sounded, informing the residents of the Manor that the Floo had been activated in the drawing room.

'Who could that be?' Narcissa wondered as she took a sip of wine.

'I don't know,' Lucius replied. 'Perhaps your mother has decided to come over for a visit.'

Narcissa frowned. 'I don't think so. She and Grandmother were planning to visit Father's cousin Araminta Melliflua this evening.'

The doors of the dining room flew open, and Sirius barged in.

'Sirius!' Narcissa exclaimed. 'What a pleasant surprise. Won't you join us?'

Sirius did not respond to his cousin, but rather strode over to Lucius's seat and punched him across the jaw, knocking the blond wizard out of his chair.

'What are you doing, Sirius?' Narcissa demanded.

'Ask your filthy bastard of a husband,' Sirius snarled. 'Ask him why he thought it appropriate to manipulate his own son into giving Aries a diary that had been cursed by Lord Voldemort.'

Narcissa gasped, then glared at her husband. 'Is this true, Lucius?'

Lucius struggled to his feet, nursing his bleeding lip. 'And if it is? I was acting under the orders of the Dark Lord himself, Narcissa. He has decided that Aries is too arrogant to be permitted to live.'

Sirius drew his wand and fired a Bone-Breaking Curse at Lucius. The blond wizard barely blocked it before shooting off a Cruciatus at Sirius. Sirius jumped out of the way onto the table, sending the china and silver scattering.

'_Reducto!_' Lucius snarled, and the table blasted to bits, hurling Sirius to the far side of the room. Lucius smirked. '_Avada Ked-'_

_'CRUCIO!' _shouted Abraxas as he ran through the dining room doors, Remus Lupin close behind him. Lucius fell to the floor, writhing in pain. After half-a-minute, Abraxas lifted the curse, and Lucius stared up at his father, hurt and betrayal etched on his face.

'How dare you?' Abraxas snarled. 'You have betrayed the trust of our entire family, Lucius.'

'The Dark Lord...' Lucius began to protest.

'Is irrelevant,' the older wizard interrupted. 'Family must always come before all else, but you have abused the faith of your own son and placed your nephew in great danger. At first I thought there might have been a misunderstanding, but now I find you ready to kill your own brother-in-law!'

'Father...' Lucius began.

_'Silencio!'_ Abraxas cast, and his son fell silent. 'I have never been so disappointed in you as I am tonight,' he continued. 'And, as you well know, that is saying a great deal. You have betrayed us all, Lucius, and I will put up with it no longer. Get out of my house.'

Lucius frowned, but made no move to leave.

'I mean it, you filthy blood traitor,' Abraxas snapped. 'From this point forward, I no longer recognise you as my son. You will receive no part of my estate, your name will be blotted out from the _Malfoy Book of Names_, and you had best pray that I never see you again.'

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his father, but was still unable to speak. He rose to his feet and gestured for Narcissa to follow him. His wife shook her head angrily.

'Not this time, Lucius,' she said.

Lucius blinked several times. At length, he turned on his heel and left the room, but not before silently lighting the draperies with Fiendfyre. It took Abraxas, Sirius and Remus all working together to get the flames under control, and by the time they succeeded, Lucius was long gone.

* * *

Late that night, Remus collected Harry and Draco from their dormitory and led them to his office. Sirius, Narcissa and Abraxas were there waiting for them. As soon as the boys entered the office, Sirius grabbed them both into a tight hug and wept. They hugged him back nervously, not sure whether he was going to yell at them. Eventually Sirius let go and told the boys to sit down.

'I trust you both know by now that the diary Aries has been writing in for these past several months was created by Lord Voldemort,' he stated. Harry and Draco both nodded hesitantly. Sirius took a deep breath before continuing. 'It appears that Voldemort ordered Lucius to give Aries the diary, in the hope that it would kill him.'

'I'm so sorry, Uncle Sirius,' Draco sobbed. 'I had no idea.'

'I know that,' Sirius replied. 'And I forgive you. But I want you two boys to understand the seriousness of what we're talking about here. The Dark Arts are very dangerous. They are not fun and games, and they can cause irreparable damage to your souls. It's the Dark Arts that can lead a wizard like Lucius to betray his family to a miserable fiend like Tom Riddle.'

The boys nodded.

'I have expelled Lucius from the family,' Abraxas said sternly. 'He will never harm either of you again.'

Draco looked up at his mother, tears streaming down his face. 'Why did he lie to me, Mum?' he asked. 'I thought he wanted to help Aries.'

'I don't know,' Narcissa said quietly. 'I don't know at all.'

'But I do know this,' Sirius said, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. 'Tom Riddle has made himself some very powerful enemies today.'

'That half-blood bastard!' Harry growled.

Abraxas raised an eyebrow. 'A half-blood? Really?'

Harry nodded.

His grandfather snorted. 'Figures,' he said with an angry snarl. 'I swear on my father's grave that Tom Riddle will ever rue the day he decided to attack the Houses of Malfoy and Black.'


	33. Part II: Chapter 4

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 4

Harry and Draco stood on the green banks of the lake, silently counting the bounces as they played ducks and drakes. They had said virtually nothing to each other in days, ever since things had come to a head with the diary and Lucius. They weren't fighting – they still spent practically every waking moment with each other – nor was it simply a matter of their not having anything to say, such as might occur on a pleasant Sunday afternoon in midsummer. Rather, the boys found that they had far too many unpleasant things to tell one another. Their newly-discovered speechlessness came from their being utterly unable to decide how to begin the conversation.

Harry broke the silence first.

'It's been a strange week,' he said.

Draco sighed as his stone sank after skimming twelve times. 'It certainly has.'

Harry gulped hard. 'I'm sorry about your dad.'

Draco's expression turned stone-cold.

'That man is not my dad,' he spat.

Harry nodded. 'Right. I'm sorry about that.'

Draco took a deep breath before responding.

'Thanks,' he said. 'I'm sorry about the diary.'

Harry shrugged, and threw another stone. It bounced ten times. 'It's no big deal,' he said. 'You had good intentions.'

Draco frowned. 'You know what they say about good intentions.'

Harry laughed humourlessly. 'I suppose that's a good lesson for us both to learn.'

His cousin skimmed another stone across the water. Seventeen jumps. 'I wish you'd told me more about what was going on between you and the diary,' he said. 'I might have been able to help.'

Harry sighed. 'You're right,' he said. 'And you ought to have told me that Uncle Lucius asked you to give me the diary. I should have probably taken it straight to Dad if I'd known.'

Draco nodded sadly, then looked his cousin directly in the eyes. 'Aries, do you trust me?' he asked.

'Absolutely,' Harry replied without hesitation.

'Even after all this mess?'

'Of course,' Harry said. 'You're my best friend. You didn't mean to put me in danger. Do you trust me?'

'With my life,' Draco replied. 'Let's promise each other something, Aries. Let's never have any more secrets from each other.'

Harry hesitated. He had some very large secrets that he didn't particularly want to share. On the other hand, he trusted Draco as much as he trusted Sirius, and far more than he trusted anyone else. He nodded reluctantly.

'No more secrets,' he said quietly.

Draco smiled, and skimmed another stone. Fifteen. 'I'm glad that's settled. I feel better knowing that we're not hiding anything.'

Harry's heart thumped violently within his chest, and he suddenly felt very warm. He didn't want to tell Draco the truth, but he had made a promise, and a wizard always kept his word.

'Whilst we're on the subject of secrets...,' he began.

Draco groaned. 'Do you have more to tell me?'

'I don't have to say anything, if you don't want me to,' Harry said quickly.

'No, I want to know,' the blond boy replied.

Harry thought for a second. There wasn't anyone nearby, but he thought the side of the lake was still a bit too open for the revelation he had in mind. 'Will you come with me for a bit, Draco?' he asked.

'Of course, Aries,' Draco said, and turned to follow. Harry led him over to the Whomping Willow, where he levitated a twig to bump against the knob Sirius had pressed a few days earlier. The branches stopped instantly.

'How did you manage that?' Draco demanded, but Harry only guided the blond boy towards the secret passageway. Moments later, they were in the Shrieking Shack.

'My dad showed me this place a few days ago,' Harry explained. 'I thought it might be a safe place for us to talk.'

'So what do you want to tell me?' Draco asked.

'Just a second,' Harry said. He cast a number of defensive and muffling spells to prevent anyone from eavesdropping, then checked for any hidden wizards or ghosts. If his experience with the diary had taught him anything, it was that one could never be too cautious. Once he felt absolutely certain that no one was listening, he sat down with Draco on the sofa.

'I promised not to hide anything from you,' he said. 'And I meant it.' He took a deep breath. 'There's one big secret I've been keeping for a long time. It's dangerous, and you could use it to really hurt me, but like I said, I trust you completely.'

Draco frowned. 'What's this big secret, Aries?' he asked.

'You've always known me as Aries,' Harry said quietly. 'But before I came to live with the Squibs, I had a different name.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'What was it?'

'Harry,' the dark-haired boy replied. 'I'm Harry Potter.'

Draco's mouth fell open. 'The Boy Who Lived? The one everyone thinks is dead?'

Harry nodded affirmatively. 'That's right.'

His cousin was stunned. 'You're the one who defeated the Dark Lord – sorry, Tom Riddle – when you were just a baby?' The family had decided that since Voldemort was now their enemy (and an illegitimate half-blood to boot), he did not deserve their respect, and was henceforth to be referred to only by his birth name, at least within the family.

Harry nodded again.

'But wait,' Draco said, sudden realisation dawning on his aristocratic features. 'That means that your Uncle James and Aunt Lily are really your parents!'

'That's right,' Harry replied. 'Dad was my godfather. They wanted him to take care of me if anything happened to them. As it turned out, everyone thought he had betrayed the Potters to Riddle, so he was tossed into Azkaban.'

'Is that why you went to live with Aunt Regina in France?' Draco asked.

Harry sighed. 'Actually, Draco, there's a bit more you need to know.'

He ended up telling Draco everything: how Dumbledore had packed him off to live with Muggles, how the Dursleys had mistreated him and he had been rescued by the Squibs, how they and the portraits had come up with the plan to disguise Harry as Sirius's son. Draco listened to everything patiently, but Harry could see his face falling with each new revelation.

'Who knows the truth?' he asked Harry at the end.

'Dad and I, of course,' Harry replied. 'Aunt Clytemnestra, Aunt Cassie, Uncle Moony, Mopsy and the portraits.'

Draco's eyes went wide. 'And Aunt Cassie doesn't mind that you're not really the heir by blood to the House of Black?'

Harry grinned. 'She was mollified by my rather precocious ability to vanquish invincible Dark wizards.'

'Does anyone else know?'

Harry began to shake his head, but stopped himself as he remembered. 'Oh, I almost forgot. Dumbledore figured it out.'

'DUMBLEDORE KNOWS?' Draco exclaimed.

'That's right,' Harry said smoothly. 'He made the mistake of trying to blackmail us, which only succeeded in making Dad angry. That's why he's cataloguing Flamel's papers and I'm still parading around as Aries Black.'

'How did you manage that?' Draco asked in shock.

Harry laughed. 'Let's just say, if you ever have any dark secrets you don't want to get out, make sure to keep Aunt Cassie on your side.'

Draco looked down at his toes. 'So, none of us are really family then. This is all a big sham.'

'That's not true!' Harry protested. 'Dad really is your mum's cousin. Uncle James – my real father – was the son of Dorea Black, so Aunt Cassie, Aunt Clytemnestra and Uncle Marius are really my aunts and uncle. We're still cousins as well, just a bit further apart.'

'Second cousins, once removed,' Draco snapped. He had a good head for figuring out family relationships. 'That's practically strangers!'

'We grew up with one another, Draco,' Harry whispered. 'We have a lot of things besides blood to hold us together.'

Draco frowned pensively, and stood up from the sofa.

'Thank you for telling me this,' he said sincerely. 'I promise I shan't tell anyone.'

Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked at his best friend's face. Draco looked calm, but Harry knew him well enough to see the pain in his eyes.

'I thought you mightn't take it very well,' Harry said.

'I'll be fine,' Draco replied automatically. 'I just need some time to think about it.'

Harry nodded sadly, and Draco left him all alone in the Shrieking Shack. Moments after the blond boy left, Harry felt a shooting pain in his forehead. He collapsed on the sofa and found himself witnessing a vision. Previously, he had only ever experienced these visions as dreams when asleep.

He sat in a stiff, high-backed armchair beside a small fire that flickered dimly within an iron grate. He had the strange sensation of simultaneously seeing the upholstered back of the chair and also the filthy room in front of him. Lucius Malfoy knelt on the dirty floor, still shivering from the Cruciatus Curse he had just endured.

'I am very disappointed, Lucius,' Harry said in the strange, high voice he had come to know so well from his dreams. It sounded weaker, though, and hoarser, and for the first time Harry recognised it as the voice of Lord Voldemort. 'I designed the diary for use as a weapon, but I did not expect you to be so careless as to allow it to be revealed.'

'It was not my fault, my lord,' Lucius replied faintly. 'Black discovered the truth on his own. He spoke to Draco.'

Harry felt enormous rage build within him. The useless wizard in front of him had been so confident that his plan would work, that there was no way things could go wrong, and now the precious diary was in the hands of his enemies.

'_CRUCIO!_' he bellowed, and Lucius screamed in pain. The pain in Harry's forehead mounted with it, and the sound of his own screaming stirred him from the vision. He lay on the floor for several minutes before he felt able to stand. He realised now that he had been dreaming of Tom Riddle all this time. Harry supposed that made sense, seeing as the dreams had started around the same time he had begun writing in the diary, but somehow he had never made the connexion before.

He rose to his feet tentatively and wobbled his way through the tunnel and back up to the castle. He needed to let Sirius know what was happening.

* * *

Back at Windermere Court, Sirius and Cassiopeia were in her private laboratory, examining the strange diary. They had conducted dozens of experiments, but they were no closer to discovering the true nature of the cursed book.

'I've never seen anything like it before, Sirius,' Cassiopeia muttered, glaring at the obstreperous object severely through her spectacles. 'It responds to none of the standard tests.'

'Could it work on the same principles as a portrait?' Sirius suggested.

Cassiopeia shook her head. 'It appears to be far too crafty for that,' she said. 'It told each of us exactly what we needed to hear in order for it to gain our trust. Had we not already known who created the object, we should have been taken in as easily as Aries was.'

'There also seemed to be a powerful compulsion charm on the diary,' Sirius said. 'Perhaps we ought not to judge Aries too harshly for his mistake.'

Cassiopeia frowned. 'Clearly the book was designed in order to entice and ensnare the reader. But to what purpose?'

Just then Sirius felt the right pocket of his robes grow very warm against his thigh. He reached inside and retrieved the handheld mirror. Harry's worried face hovered in the glass.

'What's wrong, Aries?' Sirius asked at once.

'I had a strange vision about ten minutes ago,' the boy explained. 'I saw Uncle Lucius being punished by Tom Riddle, only...'

'What is it?' Sirius pressed.

'I _was_ Tom Riddle. I saw everything from his point of view.'

'Is this the first time something like this has happened?' Cassiopeia asked, shoving into position next to Sirius.

Harry shook his head. 'I've been having odd dreams of this sort ever since I started writing in the diary. This is the first time it's happened when I was awake, though.'

'You've been seeing inside Riddle's head, and you didn't think to mention it before now?' Sirius growled.

Harry winced. 'Sorry, Dad. I didn't realise it was him I was dreaming about.'

'Think hard,' Cassiopeia commanded him. 'Is there anything else unusual about the vision?'

'I got a splitting headache,' Harry said. 'Come to think of it, I got the same sort of headache when I was writing in Riddle's diary.' He groaned. 'And the same thing happened when I was around Quirrell. I should have realised sooner there was a connexion.'

'You are still just a boy,' Sirius pointed out. 'It would hardly be reasonable for us to expect you figure this all out on your own.'

Cassiopeia looked very pensive. 'Where exactly were these headaches? Were they all over your skull, or were they localised in a particular area?'

Harry thought about that. 'Now that you mention it, they've always been in my forehead.' His eyes widened. 'Where my scar used to be.'

'The scar from where he tried to kill you?' Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. 'It disappeared when I took the potion.'

Cassiopeia pursed her lips. 'It would seem that it has not disappeared completely.'

'What do you think this means?' Sirius asked her.

'I'm not certain,' she replied. 'Aries, you did right in letting your father know about this. Be sure to inform us if anything else out of the ordinary happens. Try to pay attention to all the little details. One never knows what bit of information may prove to be the key to unlocking the mystery.'

'Yes, Aunt Cassie,' Harry said. 'Goodbye, Dad.'

'Goodbye, son,' Sirius said, and Harry's face vanished. He turned to Cassiopeia. 'This is interesting.'

'Indeed,' his great-aunt replied. 'It would appear that the scar forms some sort of magical link between the boy and Riddle.'

Sirius agreed. 'Writing in the diary must have activated it somehow,' he said.

'That is a likely hypothesis,' Cassiopeia said. 'However, as of yet we are no closer to divining the true nature of the object. That must be our first task.'

With that, the witch and wizard returned to their experimentation.

* * *

Harry didn't see Draco anymore that day. Harry checked for him several times on the Marauder's Map, and each time found him wandering alone: beside the lake, around the Quidditch pitch, through the corridors. When Draco didn't even show up for dinner, he thought briefly that he ought to go look for him, but he decided against it. Draco had asked for time to think, and Harry intended to give it to him.

Late that night, Harry was sitting up alone in the Common Room and working on his Transfiguration homework when Draco finally came through the door. His face was rather pale.

'Hello, Aries,' he said quietly.

Harry put down his homework and sat up in his chair. 'Hello, Draco. Where have you been?'

'Walking,' Draco said. 'And thinking.'

'I suppose it is a lot to take in,' Harry replied.

Draco smirked. 'One might say that.'

'Have you come to any conclusions?'

'A few,' Draco answered. 'But mostly I have loads of questions.'

'Any that I can provide the answers to?' Harry asked.

The blond boy chewed his lip nervously. 'Just this one. Our friendship – all that time we spent together – was that real, or was it just a necessary part of the act?'

Harry thought a bit before answering. How could he possibly explain to Draco what it meant to him to have a family, to have people who cared about him? He thought of Draco almost like a twin brother – he could hardly picture himself without Draco standing by his side. He had assumed that it would always be that way.

'It was real to me, Draco,' Harry replied at last. 'You're my very best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Draco nodded curtly, and withdrew an ornate silver dagger from within his robes. There was a strange glint in his blue eyes. Harry looked at the blond boy nervously.

'What's the knife for?' he asked.

Draco looked very serious. 'I feel the same way as you. That's why I want to make it official.'

He drew the dagger along the palm of his right hand, wincing slightly at the pain. He flipped the dagger over and offered it handle-first to Harry. Harry nodded in understanding and took it. He cut his own palm with the razor-sharp blade and firmly grasped Draco's hand.

'Blood brothers?' Draco asked solemnly.

'Blood brothers,' Harry replied.


	34. Part II: Chapter 5

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 5

In the weeks following the incident with Lucius, the family struggled to keep up some sort of semblance of their well-ordered lives. They had done their best to keep things quiet, but Lucius had been a very influential wizard, and no amount of gold could keep his mysterious disappearance secret for long. Rumours began to spread, and there were even a few speculative articles in the _Prophet_. Sirius was grateful that at least the boys' role in the unfortunate events remained completely unknown. They had more than enough to deal with without having to do so in full view of the entire wizarding world.

Even more than the boys, Sirius worried about Narcissa. She was all alone at Malfoy Manor now, since Abraxas was at Hogwarts during the term, and he felt that the solitude couldn't be good for her. He had encouraged her to come to Windermere Court, or possibly to go stay with Druella and Irma at Grimmauld Place, but she had refused to leave her home, demonstrating conclusively that she could be as stubborn as any other member of her family.

Of course, Sirius was stubborn too, and he had her over every Sunday to dinner at Windermere Court, as well as making a point of calling on her at home three or four times during the week. Narcissa seemed to appreciate his attentions, though they didn't always know exactly what to say to one another. On one such visit on a rainy day in late November, he arrived just in time to take tea with her in the drawing room. Narcissa welcomed him graciously, and he took his customary seat. After exchanging greetings, they spent the next several minutes in awkward silence.

'The weather's been frightful lately, hasn't it?' Narcissa said feebly after a while, doing her utmost to make conversation.

'It has,' Sirius agreed, and took a sip of tea before continuing boldly. 'But I didn't come here to talk about the weather. How are you holding up, Cissy?'

Narcissa looked at him incredulously. 'How am I holding up? My husband used our son to attack our nephew, and then nearly cast a Killing Curse at my cousin in our dining room. How do you think I'm holding up?'

'I think you're doing remarkably well, all things considered,' Sirius said with a smile. 'A lesser witch might well have cracked under the pressure.'

Narcissa let out a soft chuckle. 'Well, I am a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I've been bred to remain dignified even under the most extreme conditions.' Her face fell, and tears came to her eyes. She stiffened and blinked them away. 'I just can't believe he did it, Sirius,' she whispered. 'Draco has always worshipped him. He'd have given his right arm for even an approving glance from his father. Lucius knew it too; I spoke with him about it on more than one occasion.' She sighed. 'What kind of wizard takes advantage of his son's affection in order to use him as a weapon against his own best friend?'

Sirius snorted. 'The worst possible kind.'

'I'm mostly worried about Draco,' Narcissa continued. 'What's going to happen to him now?'

'Abraxas has decided to make Draco his heir,' Sirius pointed out. 'His future is financially secure.'

'I know, and I appreciate it immensely, but that's not what I meant,' Narcissa replied. 'Gold and land are one thing. But how can a boy grow up properly without a father?'

Sirius stared down at his cup of tea. 'Draco has you and Abraxas, not to mention me and Aries. He'll pull through.'

'I hope so,' Narcissa said sadly. 'But it won't be easy.' A single tear ran down her cheek. 'For either of us.'

Sirius set down his tea and took Narcissa's hand into his own before looking her directly in the eyes.

'I'll be here for you, Cissy,' he promised. 'Both of you. No matter what happens.'

His cousin smiled at him. 'You've been looking out for Draco ever since you were freed from Azkaban,' she said. 'He's lucky to have you as an uncle.'

Sirius sat back casually in his chair and helped himself to a biscuit. 'He's a good kid. And he's Aries' best friend.'

Narcissa nodded and took a small sip of her own weak tea. 'Any news from Hogwarts?' she asked.

'Not really,' Sirius replied. 'Aries and Draco seem to be carrying on with their normal activities. Remus says they've been a bit subdued – not so many pranks as before – but that's only to be expected.'

'If the only effect of this tragedy is to tone down the boys' boisterousness, I shall consider myself a very lucky witch,' Narcissa wryly.

Sirius grinned. 'So will Headmistress McGonagall.'

A chime sounded, and both Sirius and Narcissa reached for their wands, only to relax as they saw Cassiopeia step out of the fireplace, triumph shining brightly from her eyes. She clutched the diary in her hands.

'I've done it!' she cackled as she strode towards her niece and nephew and sat down on the sofa. She laid the diary on a side table.

'Done what, Aunt Cassie?' Narcissa asked, pouring the older witch a cup of tea.

'I've figured out what the diary is, of course,' Cassiopeia replied, taking the cup and saucer from Narcissa's hands. 'Thank you, my dear.'

'Don't keep us in suspense,' Sirius urged her. 'What is it?'

'The diary is a Horcrux,' Cassiopeia said simply.

Sirius frowned. 'That word sounds vaguely familiar, but I'm not exactly sure what it is. How about you, Cissy?'

The blonde witch shook her head. 'I don't know either.'

Cassiopeia sighed melodramatically. 'What do they teach them in these schools nowadays?' she wondered aloud. 'A Horcrux is an enchanted object in which a wizard has enclosed a portion of his own soul. So long as the Horcrux continues to exist, the wizard cannot die.'

Narcissa gasped. 'Is that why the Dark Lord was able to return?'

'Indubitably,' Cassiopeia replied calmly, and sipped her tea.

'If the Horcrux is what's keeping Riddle alive, then destroying the diary ought to kill him!' Sirius said excitedly.

'Yes, if it's only the diary that's keeping him bound to the world of the living,' Cassiopeia said. 'However, if that is truly the case, I find it very strange that Riddle would be so careless with it. A Horcrux ought to be kept in a secluded fortress under heavy protective enchantments with at least a few dragons standing guard, not handed over to schoolchildren as a plaything.'

Sirius frowned. 'Are you sure that the diary really is a Horcrux?'

'There is no doubt in my mind,' his great-aunt replied. 'Once I had an idea of what I was looking at, a few relatively simple tests were able to prove it conclusively.'

'It seems very unlike the Dark Lord to be so careless,' Narcissa observed.

'Indeed,' Cassiopeia replied. 'Sadly, I cannot be certain as to why Riddle has embarked upon the course of action. He may simply be mad. However, it is theoretically possible that he feels comfortable using his Horcrux as a weapon because it is not unique. He may well have made more than one.'

'More than one Horcrux?' Narcissa was surprised. 'But why, if only one is sufficient to make him immortal?'

'Security,' Sirius replied. 'No matter how well you hide and defend a Horcrux, there's a chance that someone will manage to destroy it. The more Horcruxes he has, the more invincible he becomes.'

Narcissa nodded. 'That makes sense. How does one go about making a Horcrux anyway? Is it very difficult?'

'There are certain rituals and incantations involved,' Cassiopeia explained. 'The key element appears to be murder.'

'MURDER?' Narcissa and Sirius responded in unison.

'Murder,' Cassiopeia repeated calmly. 'The cold-blooded murder of another human being necessarily fractures the soul of the perpetrator. The ritual simply takes that broken-off bit and encloses it within a specially-prepared receptacle.'

'That's awful,' Narcissa whispered. 'And to think of repeating that more than once!'

Sirius furrowed his brow. 'Riddle's murdered countless people. He might very well have made hundreds of Horcruxes.'

'Fortunately, Sirius,' his great-aunt replied, 'I do not believe that to be possible. Most theorists consider the soul to be finite. Any given soul can only endure so much fragmentation before not enough remains even to animate a body, much less perform magic. It's impossible to say without any experimental data exactly how many Horcruxes a single soul could support, but theorists estimate that the limit might be as low as three, or as high as twelve.'

'What's the largest number of Horcurxes that any one wizard has ever made until now?' Narcissa asked.

'One, to my knowledge,' Cassiopeia replied.

Sirius frowned. 'Then how can you be sure it is even possible to make more than one Horcrux?'

'I can't,' Cassiopeia said simply. 'There is, however, an infallible experiment we can perform to determine whether or not Riddle has done so. If we destroy the diary, and Riddle dies, we shall know that he made only the one. If he survives, then we shall know that he made more.'

'Even that won't tell us how many he made,' Sirius pointed out. 'Nor will it show us where they are or even what they are.'

'You are correct, Sirius,' Cassiopeia said. 'If we should determine that Riddle successfully created other Horcruxes besides the diary, then we shall have to pursue other avenues of investigation in order to locate them.'

'Ought we really to destroy the Horcrux so quickly?' Narcissa asked. 'Is there no further way it can be of use to us?'

A cruel glint appeared in Cassiopeia's grey eyes. 'Well, I had thought that perhaps we could allow the diary to possess someone, and then use a combination of Legilimency, Veritaserum and the Cruciatus Curse to learn everything that this piece of Riddle's soul knows.'

Sirius only stared at her in horror at the suggestion.

Cassiopeia harrumphed. 'It was only a thought,' she said defensively. 'Honestly, we could snatch some Muggle off the streets and perform the experiment in a controlled environment. There would be minimal danger to us.'

Sirius shook his head firmly. 'That would take us down to Riddle's level. I won't allow it.'

His great-aunt rolled her eyes. 'Gryffindors.' She sighed deeply. 'In that case there is nothing more we can learn from the diary, and we might as well destroy it.'

'There's no Dark ritual you can perform with it in order to locate the other bits of Riddle's soul?' Sirius asked cheekily.

'If there were, don't you think I should already have performed it?' Cassiopeia snapped.

'I don't know,' Sirius replied with a smirk. 'You might have needed a half-pint of blood from the handsome head of a noble, pureblood family.'

Cassiopeia and Narcissa both groaned.

Sirius only laughed. 'So how do we go about destroying the Horcrux?' he asked his aunt.

'Fiendfyre is the simplest way,' the witch replied. 'I could have done it myself, of course, but I thought you might want to do the honours, Sirius.'

Sirius thought about that. He would very much enjoy the opportunity to take some revenge on his best friend's murderer, the wizard who had tried to kill Harry twice, but if Aunt Cassie was right about Riddle having made more than one Horcrux, Sirius would have other chances. He thought someone else needed the opportunity more at the moment.

'What do you think, Cissy?' he offered gallantly. 'Would you like to strike a blow to the Dark Lord?'

Narcissa's pretty eyes gleamed and a small smile crept across her face.

'Thank you, Sirius,' she said. 'I think I should like that very much.'

They went out onto the terrace and laid the diary on the stone floor. Narcissa pointed her wand at the diary and torrents of flame came bursting out from its tip. The fire was so hot that it singed the fringes of her robes. Unearthly screams poured out of the diary the moment the flames hit it, producing a sound so terrible that even Cassiopeia appeared to be shaken. Once the screams fell silent, Narcissa stopped the fire with a flick of her wrist. The scorched remnants of the diary lay on the terrace, little more than a pile of ashes. Cassiopeia Summoned them into a small bag and stuffed it into the pocket of her robes. Sirius gave her a questioning look.

'I wondered whether perhaps the remnants of a Horcrux might have some use in potion-making,' she explained. 'I thought a few experiments couldn't hurt.'

* * *

Harry and Draco were sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room one afternoon, playing a game of wizard chess. Draco ordered his knight to take Harry's bishop.

'Check,' he said smugly.

Harry frowned, then had his king step out of danger.

'Very Slytherin of you to sneak out of trouble like that, Black,' Weasley taunted over Harry's shoulder. 'How did you ever get the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor?'

'Sod off, Weasley,' Harry snapped back. 'We don't want to talk to the likes of you.'

'No,' Finnegan joined in. 'I guess with fathers like yours you'll be sticking to your own little junior Death Eaters club.'

'Shut up, Finnegan,' Draco growled, his jaw clenched. 'You've no idea what you're talking about.'

Weasley laughed maliciously. 'Was that a bit too close to home, Malfoy? We've heard some very interesting rumours lately. Tell me: how does it feel to have your dad run out on you so suddenly? Is he on an important mission for his master?'

Draco stood up and glared at Weasley, his hand creeping towards his wand.

'I'm warning you, Weasley,' he said. 'Leave us alone.'

'It's a pity he didn't take you with him,' Finnegan said. 'Didn't he want you, or were you too much of a coward to join up with You-Know-Who?'

There was a blast from Draco's wand, and Finnegan soared across the Common Room, slamming into the wall on the opposite side. Weasley drew his own wand and tried to hex Draco, but Harry blocked it just in time. Soon several other students joined in the fight, and all hell broke loose. The Weasley twins, Dean, Lee and the Quidditch team were on the side of Harry and Draco, whilst several others took the part of Weasley and Finnegan. Most everyone else stood around the sides of the room to watch how things played out and cheer on their friends, but Percy Weasley slipped quietly out of the room through the door.

* * *

Remus Lupin was sitting contentedly in a comfy armchair beside the warm fire in his office, marking essays. He was exceptionally delighted with the work of his fourth-year Hufflepuffs. They had been far behind the other Houses at the beginning of term, but their work ethic and a bit of extra attention had caught them up admirably. He was so caught up in his excitement that he barely noticed the loud rap on his door.

'Come in,' he called out, not even bothering to look up from the essay he was reading.

'Professor Lupin,' Percy Weasley said urgently. 'Come quick. A fight's broken out back in Gryffindor Tower.'

Remus looked up at the sixth-year prefect. 'A duel?'

Percy shook his head. 'More like a war.'

Remus groaned and lifted himself out of the chair. Years of painful transformations had left his joints in far worse condition than they ought to have been in a thirty-two-year-old man. He winced at the pain and followed after the Weasley boy.

The sight that greeted him when he stepped into the Common Room left him utterly flabbergasted. Every piece of furniture in the room had been smashed to smithereens. Torn tapestries lay trampled on the floor, and at least a dozen of his Gryffindors didn't look much better, lying on the stone floor, nursing their cuts and bruises. The only ones left standing were Harry and Draco – _Of course,_ Remus thought. _I should have known at once._ – the Weasley twins and Angelina Johnson. The eyes of everyone in the room seemed to be focussed on Draco, and Draco himself was gazing in shock at Ronald Weasley, who was shivering pitifully on the floor.

'What the devil's going on here?' Remus demanded.

'Malfoy used the Cruciatus Curse on Ron!' Lavender Brown shouted from the stairs.

'Shut up, you stupid cow!' Harry shot back. 'You wouldn't know the Cruciatus Curse from a Cheering Charm.'

'He did so,' Parvati Patil joined in. 'Everyone was duelling normally, and then Ron cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Look at him: he's still shivering.'

There was a sudden uproar in response to that. Soon everyone in the room seemed to be shouting at everyone else.

'_Silencio_,' Remus whispered, and the Gryffindors fell silent. 'Now,' he continued in a quiet voice, 'is there any neutral observer who can tell me what happened here from the beginning?'

Hermione Granger stepped forward and raised her hand. Remus flicked his wand and she was once again able to speak.

'I saw how it started, Professor,' she said. 'Aries and Draco were playing a game of chess by themselves when Ron and Seamus came over and started teasing them about their fathers.'

Remus could feel the wolf stirring inside him at that news. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.

'I see,' he said tightly. 'Carry on, Miss Granger.'

'Anyway, words led to spells,' she said, 'and soon other people were joining in the fight. At first it seemed like a fairly friendly fight – you know, the Jelly-Legs Jinx and such – but things got nasty quick: there were Cutting Curses and Bone-Breaking Curses. Finally, Draco cast a curse on Weasley that made him cry out in terrible pain and fall to the floor.'

'Was it the Cruciatus?' Remus asked evenly.

Hermione shook her head, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief.

'I didn't recognise the incantation he used,' Hermione said. 'But I know it wasn't the Cruciatus Curse.'

'Do you remember what the incantation was?' Remus pressed.

Hermione looked like she was straining very hard to think.

'I'm not sure, sir,' she said. 'Mag-nah-doy-oh, maybe?'

Remus's heart sank. It might not have technically been the Cruciatus, but if Draco had cast Harry's new-and-improved version, it was just as bad.

'Thank you, Hermione,' he said. 'Take five points for telling me what happened.'

He turned to address the rest of the Gryffindors.

'I am very disappointed in you,' he said. 'Your House is supposed to be like your family here at Hogwarts. It's not right for you all to be fighting with one another. I am taking three hundred points from Gryffindor for this little incident, and there will be a week of detention for everyone involved in the fight. I never want to hear of anything like this ever again. Do I make myself clear?'

The students nodded shamefacedly.

'Good,' Remus replied. 'Prefects, I want you to see that the wounded get safely to the infirmary, and then set about cleaning up this mess. Messrs Malfoy and Black, please come with me.'

Harry and Draco followed Remus out of the room. The professor lifted the Silencing Charm just before the portrait closed shut, but the Gryffindors remained as quiet as the grave.


	35. Part II: Chapter 6

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I must confess, the past few days have been rather hectic, and on top of it all I was suffering from an acute case of writer's block. Fortunately it's all resolved for now. I hope you enjoy the next installment.**

* * *

Chapter 6

Remus led the two boys into his office and Conjured two plush armchairs for them. He poured them each a cup of tea and asked them to sit.

'Is it true that you cast the Magnadolorous Curse on Ron Weasley?' he demanded.

'Yes,' Harry replied brazenly.

'No, sir,' Draco protested. 'I was the one who cast the curse. Aries had nothing to do with it.'

Harry's jaw fell open. 'Whatever do you mean, Draco? I invented it. I taught it to you.'

'But you didn't use it on a fellow student,' Draco said simply. 'I did.' He turned back to face Remus. 'Professor Lupin, I take full responsibility for my actions. There is no reason for Aries to get in trouble too.'

Remus looked taken aback. 'But, Draco, he admitted to teaching you the curse.'

The blond boy remained unfazed. 'Aunt Cassie taught us the Blood-Boiling Curse, but I know better than to use it on fellow students.'

'But why would Aries even teach you such a thing?' Remus asked.

'After what happened with...with Lucius, I wanted to learn some spells to help me to defend myself against Riddle,' Draco explained. 'Aries only taught me the most powerful ones he knew.'

'And I'd do it again,' Harry said boldly.

'Shut up, Aries!' Draco snapped. 'There's no reason for us both to get into trouble.' He looked Remus directly in the eyes, a pleading look on his face. 'Please, sir, it wouldn't be fair at all. Aries did nothing worse than any of the other students involved in the duel.'

Remus sat pensively for a few moments. He found the boys' loyalty to one another to be quite impressive. It reminded him strongly of two other boys he had once known.

'Very well, Draco,' he said. 'You make a good point.' He turned to Harry. 'You may go, Aries. But you've lost another twenty points for teaching your cousin such a Dark curse. I should have thought that after your experience with the diary you would have more sense than to fool around with Dark magic.'

'You don't understand, Uncle Moony,' Harry moaned. 'And if you're going to get Draco into more trouble...'

'Watch the whinging,' Remus said sharply. 'And don't forget about your week of detentions.'

Harry glared at his Head of House, but did as he was told. He got up from his chair and left the room. Once the door slammed shut, Remus turned his attention to Draco.

'What shall we do with you?' he mused.

'I'm sorry, Professor,' Draco said sincerely. 'I don't know what came over me. I was just so angry at Weasley for the things he said about my father. I didn't expect it to be so powerful. I've never managed anything like that before.'

'Anger can be a very dangerous thing, especially for a wizard,' Remus said quietly. 'You must learn to control your temper. If you just let yourself lash out at anyone who upsets you, who knows what will happen? Next time you might kill someone in a fit of rage.'

Draco nodded soberly. Remus put a hand on his shoulder.

'I sympathise with you, believe me,' he said. 'I have a terrible temper myself.'

'You?' Draco exclaimed. He had never even heard the mild-mannered professor raise his voice.

'I have learnt to keep it under very tight control,' Remus said. 'Even so, I nearly lost it when I heard what Messrs Weasley and Finnegan had done.'

Draco gave him a small smile. 'You did?'

Remus smiled back. 'Of course. I care about you and Aries very much. You've been through an awful lot this year, and it's not right for other people to give you a hard time about it.' His smile vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. 'However, the way you responded to their provocation was utterly inappropriate. You can't go around Cruciating your classmates because they annoy you or hurt your feelings.'

'It wasn't technically the Cruciatus Curse, sir,' Draco began, but Remus cut him off.

'Don't give me that rubbish,' he snapped. 'I've read Aries' research, and your Aunt Cassie's analysis. The Magnadolorous Curse may qualify as a new curse, but it still works on the same basic principles.'

Draco conceded the point. 'Even so,' he said, 'it was only a bit of pain. It's not as though I caused Weasley any real damage. Others were using Bone-Breaking Curses and Cutting Curses.'

Remus paused pensively.

'Do you know why the Cruciatus Curse is one of the three Unforgivables?' he asked at last.

'I've never really been able to figure it out,' Draco said. 'There's other magic that can do far worse things to you than simply causing you a bit of pain.'

'That's just the point,' Remus said patiently. 'The Cruciatus Curse exists for no other reason than to torture someone else and cause them an immense amount of pure agony. There are no circumstances when it has any legitimate use that cannot be accomplished with a different spell. There are situations in which one might need to break a bone in self-defence, or even use one of the various Cutting Curses. But the Cruciatus Curse has only one purpose.'

'I'm afraid I don't understand, sir,' Draco said, shaking his head in confusion. 'Mightn't it be better just to use the Cruciatus? It doesn't inflict lasting damage.'

Remus got a strange look on his face and stood up from his chair. He walked over to the fireplace and retrieved some Floo powder from the dish on the mantel.

'Come with me, Draco,' he said.

Draco got up and walked over to his professor's side.

'Where are we going, Professor?' he asked.

'St Mungo's,' Remus replied. 'I want you to see something.'

The two wizards Flooed to St Mungo's and Remus led Draco up to the fourth floor: Spell Damage. The Healer on duty greeted them at the entrance of the long-term residents' ward.

'Good afternoon,' Remus said. 'I am Professor Remus Lupin, and this is one of my students. We're here to visit Mr and Mrs Longbottom.'

'Oh, how nice!' the Healer exclaimed. 'They don't get very many visitors. I'm sure it will do them some good.'

Remus took Draco into the ward and led him over to a small room. Inside there sat a witch and wizard, about the age of Draco's own parents. Vacant expressions lay on their pale, drawn faces. The wizard was muttering to himself constantly, and didn't seem to notice them come in. The witch stared at them with very wide eyes. She hardly blinked at all. It made Draco feel very uncomfortable.

'Frank, Alice,' Remus said loudly, 'I'd like for you to meet one of my students, Draco Malfoy.'

Frank and Alice did not respond.

'Draco,' Remus went on, 'this is Mr and Mrs Longbottom.'

'Longbottom?' Draco asked. 'Are they related to Neville?'

'You know Neville?'

Draco nodded. 'He's Aries' Herbology partner. He's a good chap.'

Remus looked pleased to hear Draco say that. 'Yes, he is. He's a fine boy.' He gestured towards Frank and Alice. 'These are his parents.'

'His parents?' Draco's eyes went wide. 'I knew he lived with his grandmother, but I assumed that his parents were dead.' He paused before continuing in a very small voice. 'What happened to them?'

The Transfiguration master took a deep breath. 'Frank and Alice were Aurors during the last war. They both fought against Voldemort very bravely. They survived three encounters with him.' He looked down at Draco seriously. 'Then they were driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse.'

Draco turned very pale.

'Don't ever think that pain is harmless, Draco,' Remus went on. 'There's nothing physically wrong with either Frank or Alice. Even if you had the Elixir of Life, it would do nothing to help them. The pain was simply too much for them to bear, and they lost their minds.'

'Is there anything that can be done for them?' Draco whispered.

'The Healers have been working on it for years, but have yet to find anything,' Remus replied.

'Was it the Dark Lord...I mean...was it Riddle who did this?'

Remus shook his head. 'It was a group of his followers, led by Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.'

'Uncle Rudy and Aunt Bella?' Draco looked ready to cry. 'My godparents?'

Remus nodded gravely.

'Is that why they're in Azkaban?' Draco asked.

'Largely,' Remus answered. 'Though this is hardly the only thing they did to deserve that fate.'

Draco looked at the Longbottoms sadly. 'I had no idea,' he said.

'I know,' Remus replied. 'That's why I thought you ought to meet them. I shouldn't say anything to Neville about it, though. If he wants to share his secrets with you, you ought to allow him to do so on his own terms.'

Draco nodded. 'What about...Lucius?' he asked hesitantly. 'Did he ever do anything like this?'

'It is difficult to say for certain,' Remus hedged.

'Professor, please.'

'Well, Draco,' Remus said, 'let's just say that if Bellatrix Lestrange was always considered to be Voldemort's right hand, Lucius Malfoy was his left.'

The blond boy bit his lower lip and nodded. 'I see,' he said.

They stood there quietly for a few more minutes before Remus put his hand on Draco's shoulder and told him it was time for them to go. Draco turned to the Longbottoms before leaving.

'Goodbye, Mr and Mrs Longbottom,' he said courteously. 'It was an honour for me to meet you.'

The witch and wizard made no response, of course, and Remus took Draco back to Hogwarts.

'So, Draco,' Remus asked once they returned to his office. 'Do you understand now why the Cruciatus is such a terrible thing?'

'Yes, sir,' Draco replied faintly. 'I think I should almost prefer to death to that.'

'You would be far from the only one to voice that sentiment,' Remus said. His voice, though stern, was not without pity. 'I must impress upon you the utmost seriousness of the line you have crossed today. You will serve detention every night for the remainder of term. I shall send a letter to your mother, and if I ever learn of your doing such a thing again, I shall have to refer you to the Headmistress.'

'Please, sir,' Draco began to protest, but Remus cut him off.

'After what you have seen, do you still feel that you do not deserve such a punishment?' Remus asked sharply.

'No, sir,' the blond boy replied. 'I know I deserve much worse. I was only going to ask if you could possibly not send a letter to my mother about this. She's been through so much lately. I don't want to upset her. I'll willingly serve detentions through June! But please don't bother her. I promise, I won't ever do anything like this again.'

Remus's expression softened. 'You're a good lad, Draco,' he said with an approving nod. 'You'll serve your detentions until the end of this term, but I shan't inform your mother.'

Draco sighed with relief. 'Thank you, sir,' he said.

'Now run along back to your dormitory,' Remus told him, and Draco readily complied.

* * *

'Well, Draco?' Harry demanded when his cousin returned to Gryffindor Tower. Their dormitory was quite empty, as Dean, Weasley and Finnegan were all in the infirmary. 'What happened?'

Draco plopped down on his bed. 'We talked about the dangers of the Cruciatus Curse,' he said simply, 'and I have detention for the rest of term.'

Harry's face turned red. 'That's not fair! Weasley was trying to hex you left and right. The prat deserved what he got.'

'I appreciate your jumping to my defence, Aries,' Draco said. 'But I shouldn't have done it. I deserve my punishment.'

'It wasn't even really the Cruciatus!' Harry protested.

'That doesn't matter,' Draco said quietly. 'It was bad enough.'

Harry looked at his cousin curiously. 'What's come over you?' he asked. 'Did Uncle Moony decide to bring out the guilt?'

Draco smiled faintly. 'You might say that.'

'I'm going to go talk to him,' Harry said, hopping up from his bed. 'This isn't your fault. Weasley started it. Maybe I'll complain to Dad. I bet he could get you off.'

'No, Aries,' Draco said firmly. 'I deserve what I've got. Professor Lupin wasn't too harsh at all.'

Harry snorted. 'You ruddy Hufflepuff! Where did you get this overdeveloped sense of fair play?'

Draco smirked at him. 'Well, you did want to know where the Hat was thinking about placing me.'

Harry's eyes looked ready to explode out of their sockets. 'HUFFLEPUFF?' he shouted. 'THE HAT WANTED TO SORT YOU INTO HUFFLEPUFF?'

Draco chuckled. 'It was either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Of course, since you decided to pull your little trick with the Hat, we'll never know which it would have decided in the end.'

'But Hufflepuff?' Harry sighed. 'I'd never have expected it of you.'

'And just what's wrong with Hufflepuffs?' Draco demanded, his tongue firmly in his cheek.

'Nothing,' Harry replied. 'They're the most decent wizards you'll ever meet. They're just so...boring.'

Draco swatted the back of his cousin's head.

'Prat,' he said affectionately.

* * *

With Draco in detention for the rest of term, Harry found himself with a great deal more free time, most of which he spent in the library doing research. He wanted to be ready for anything, especially with Riddle on the loose, and after the fight in Gryffindor Tower he thought he could benefit from expanding his arsenal with a range of more subtle curses. Of course, most of the books he wanted were in the Restricted Section, but with Abraxas teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, it was an easy matter for Harry to obtain permission. Before the incident, he would have thought that Remus would be just as helpful, but now that he had seen how his Head of House responded to Draco's Magnadolorous Curse, Harry thought it best to keep his new research from the werewolf. It wasn't that Harry resented his dad's best friend – he didn't, at least not very much. But Remus was simply far too narrow-minded to appreciate what Harry had to do if he was going to help bring Riddle down.

One evening when Harry was poring over _The Warlock's Companion: A Comprehensive Guide to Battle Magic_, he noticed Daphne Greengrass sigh in frustration at the table next to him. He had already been reading for over an hour, and his vision had begun to blur, so he decided to pay the pretty girl a visit and see if there was any way he could help.

'Good evening, Daphne,' he said as he slid casually into the chair across from her. 'It's unusual to see you without your cousin.'

'I might say the same about you, Aries,' Daphne observed with a wry grin. 'Where's Draco?'

Harry shrugged. 'He's got detention with Professor Lupin.'

'Pansy has detention with Sprout,' Daphne replied. 'It's a pity, too, because she's better than I am at Potions. Professor Snape wants an essay on the mistakes I made in my Calming Draught this morning, and I can't seem to figure out what I did wrong.'

Harry held out his hand. 'May I see your work?' he asked. Daphne handed her papers over and Harry looked them over. 'What colour was your potion at the end of class?'

'I should say it was a delicate shade of lavender,' Daphne replied.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You're talking to a bloke, Daphne. I haven't a clue what that means.'

Daphne laughed. 'Purple.'

'That's more like it,' Harry said, suppressing a chuckle. 'It ought to have been light green.'

'That's what Professor Snape said.'

'Hmm,' Harry said pensively, looking down the list of ingredients. 'Did you leave out the crushed dung beetles?'

Daphne put her hand over her mouth. 'I put them in, but I chopped them instead of crushing them.'

'That's a mistake, certainly, but I should have thought it would make the potion too dark, rather than changing the colour entirely.' Harry stared at her notes for a few minutes and frowned. 'You've written here to stir the potion seven times clockwise after you've added the first teaspoon of powdered newt's eyes. I could have sworn it was supposed to be seventeen times.'

'Oh dear,' Daphne said. 'Are you certain?'

'Positive,' Harry said. 'I think that's your key mistake. It totally changes the effect of the potion. You ended up brewing an Invigoration Solution.'

'No wonder Professor Snape gave me such low marks,' the girl said with a sigh. 'I don't think I shall ever be able to understand Potions.'

'Poppycock,' Harry retorted. 'Potion-brewing is no more difficult than cooking.'

'I don't cook,' Daphne said haughtily. 'That's what a house elf is for. I should be very surprised if _you_ of all people had ever even set foot in a kitchen.'

Harry laughed. 'My Granny keeps a very close eye on the food she serves at our chateau in France,' he said. 'Roquefort does all the menial stuff, but she's asked me and Draco to help her a few times. She's also the one who taught us how to make potions. She's the best potion-brewer in the family.' He stood up suddenly. 'Come with me,' he said.

'Where do you want us to go?' Daphne asked.

'I'm going to teach you how to cook,' Harry replied.

'But why?'

'I thought you wanted to do better in Potions,' Harry said.

'I do.'

'Granny says that the best way to learn potion-brewing is to begin with cooking,' Harry said.

Daphne could hardly believe what she was hearing, but she put her books in her bag and followed Harry out of the library. He led her to a funny painting showing several kinds of fruit, and Harry tickled the pear. The painting swung open to reveal the enormous Hogwarts kitchens. Several house elves came rushing towards Harry and Daphne.

'What will the young masters be wanting?' one of the elves asked.

'I need a stove, a saucepan and an egg,' Harry said.

Daphne felt sure that the elves would refuse the strange request, but they eagerly led the children over to an empty stove.

That evening, Harry taught her how to boil an egg, and Daphne Greengrass thought it one of the strangest experiences of her entire life. The Greengrasses were a respectable, upper-middle-class pureblood family, and Daphne had never even seen the kitchen in their home. She knew that her grandmother cooked from time to time, but her mother had always regarded that as something shameful, and they didn't mention it outside the family. Properly-brought-up young witches did not cook their own food. It simply wasn't done.

But now, Daphne was being shown how to cook by none other than Aries Black, the heir to the wealthiest and snobbiest pureblood family in all of Britain. It simply boggled the mind! And when he sat her down at a table, and then proceeded to place her egg in its cup before salting it and presenting it to her himself, he served her as deftly as the Minister's own elves.

'Here you go, Mademoiselle,' he said as he placed the egg before her. 'Bon appétit.'

Daphne giggled as she took the first bite of the very first food she had prepared herself. It was delicious.


	36. Part II: Chapter 7

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 7

The Christmas holidays were by far the gloomiest that anyone could remember. Lucius's treachery hung like a Dementor over every conversation, every joke. Despite Sirius's best efforts to distract everyone with witty jokes, mountains of expensive presents, abundant food and many, many cases of good liquor, Christmas cheer seemed resolved to stay far away from the Black family that year.

Worst of all was the incessant bickering. Internecine conflict had always been an essential part of a Black Christmas, but in Harry's experience it had always been of the sort that added a bit of flavour (and perhaps even entertainment) to an otherwise good-natured celebration. This year, however, the customary good humour was absent, and vicious sniping became the dominant activity. As Clytemnestra said, it was as though the Goddess of Discord had thrown her golden apple into the midst of their holiday table. Cassiopeia took great pleasure in reminding everyone that Druella's middle name was Eris, inciting yet another nasty hex war.

It didn't help that nearly everything went wrong that possibly could do so. Number seventeen, Windermere Court had a pipe burst three days before Christmas, and Sirius had to host the family at Grimmauld Place instead, which in itself was sufficient to put him in a sour mood. Melania came up from France to oversee the cooking, but she was unaccustomed to the draughty Grimmauld Place kitchen, and her soufflé fell. As if that were not enough to ruin the holiday, Kreacher dripped a bit of yolk into her meringue, and she ended up wasting a dozen eggs. The poor elf beat himself with an iron poker for five minutes before the furious witch, usually so very kind-hearted, told him that he had punished himself sufficiently.

Sirius invited the Tonkses, thinking that Narcissa could use the company of even an estranged sister in her current misery. That turned out to be a horrendous lapse in judgement. Narcissa appreciated the gesture, but Druella and Irma were furious that Sirius had invited Ted Tonks into their home for Christmas. In fact, they were so angry over the inclusion of a 'filthy Mudblood' that they completely overlooked the fact that Sirius had also invited Remus Lupin to join the Black family celebration for the first time. Sirius thought that this latter oversight boded well for Remus's future with the Black family.

When Ted Tonks arrived, most of the family chose simply to ignore his presence altogether, which was quite a feat, given Ted's generous proportions and the narrow corridors of Grimmauld Place. On the other hand, Cassiopeia had always got on rather well with Dora – largely because she was intrigued by the latter's Metamorphmagus abilities – and they spent a good ten minutes chatting amicably before Cassiopeia learned that Dora was in training to join the 'narrow-minded, puritanical, thrice-damned Aurors', whereupon the pleasant conversation rapidly degenerated into a venomous tirade. Cassiopeia's thunderous tones woke Walburga's portrait, thus subjecting the entire family to an hour-long lecture on the 'base treachery and perfidious villainy' of Millicent Bagnold, Barty Crouch and other politicians of the seventies and early eighties.

Andromeda got into a shouting match with her mother, which only ended when Irma yelled at them both to shut up and consider Narcissa's feelings. This, of course, only served to embarrass poor Narcissa. Remus and Dora found themselves under the mistletoe – largely through the machinations of a certain sneaky Animagus – and both blushed as they kissed. Sirius was simply delighted, having made sure to invite Remus and Dora for precisely that purpose, but Ted Tonks glared coldly at Remus afterwards, and refused to speak to him for the rest of the day.

Even Sirius and Abraxas, who usually got on famously, found themselves bickering over England's chances in the World Cup. Harry and Draco got into an argument over the legality of one of Harry's moves in their chess game, which soon expanded to include most of the adults, several portraits and all the chess volumes in the Grimmauld Place library. In the end, no one could quite remember what the original dispute had been about, but Abraxas and Ignatius Prewett had vowed never to speak to one another again.

At the end of the day, Sirius locked himself in his old bedroom with a pack of cigarettes and a large bottle of Old Ogden's, vowing to spend the next Christmas in Majorca.

* * *

A couple of days before the New Year Sirius woke Harry very early and took him out for a spin on his brand-new motorcycle. Harry rode pillion and enjoyed himself immensely, though he rather wished Sirius would have worn a helmet, if only so that his long hair wouldn't fly into Harry's face.

They headed straight out of the city and into the country, where they zipped along small roads with utter abandon. Sirius had declared the day a 'Muggle day', which meant no magic allowed. Of course, this hardly stopped him from Confunding a few policemen, but fortunately neither he nor Harry was much inclined towards a legalistic, Pharisaical enforcement of rules, even their own.

They stopped for lunch at a Muggle pub where Sirius ordered them both steak and chips, as well as a pint of ale for himself and a soft drink for Harry.

'Prongs and I used to come here all the time with Moony and...er, with Moony,' he explained to Harry. 'This is where Prongs told us he was going to marry Lily, and it's also where he asked a certain devilishly-handsome young wizard to be godfather to his son.'

Harry grinned. 'I'm glad he did.'

Sirius reached across the table and ruffled the boy's hair. 'Thanks for coming with me this morning,' he said. 'I needed to get out for a bit.'

'Perfectly understandable,' Harry replied. 'It could be worse, though. Aunt Cassie and Aunt Druella could actually be staying in the same house year-round.'

'Good Lord!' Sirius exclaimed in horror. 'What a nightmare that would be. There was more than enough cleaning-up to do after their little tiff on Christmas Day.'

'When are they installing the new wall?' Harry asked, popping a chip into his mouth.

'The Tuesday after you go back to school.'

'Is there anything you can do about the vase?'

Sirius sighed. 'No. It's irreparably smashed. It was a gift from Suleiman the Magnificent too. I think that was actually the last Muggle-made family heirloom we had.'

'I'm surprised Grandmother kept it,' Harry replied with a smirk.

'Well, Muggle-made or not it _was _a gift from the Ottoman sultan,' Sirius pointed out. 'One doesn't just throw away things like that.' He growled. 'Though apparently it's perfectly acceptable to levitate them in front of oneself just to block a simple Blasting Curse. Damn Druella.'

'Did she even apologise?'

Sirius snorted. 'Her? Never.' He mimicked Druella's high-pitched, nasal whine. '"It was Cassiopeia's own wretched fault for casting the Blasting Curse in the first place."'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Figures. Has any Rosier ever apologised for anything?'

'Not likely,' Sirius snarled, cutting into his steak with gusto.

'I feel sorry for Draco,' Harry said. 'I mean, the old cow's his grandmother.'

Sirius chuckled. 'It could be worse. Remember, she used to live at Malfoy Manor.'

'I remember,' Harry said with a groan. 'Even Granddad used to go out of his way to avoid running into her – in his own bloody house!'

'Speaking of Granddad,' Sirius began. 'He told me you've been undertaking a bit of research in the Restricted Section.'

Harry nodded and took a sip of his soft drink. 'That's right. I want to train to fight Riddle.'

'Well, I hope you won't ever be close enough to him to have to fight him again,' Sirius said with a smile. 'All the same, I think it's a wise precaution for you to take. I've asked Moony to help you and Draco train this term.'

Harry's face fell. 'Thanks, Dad,' he forced himself to reply. 'That's great.'

Sirius was too absorbed in his steak to notice the shift in Harry's expression. 'I thought you'd enjoy that bit of news,' he said cheerfully. 'Moony's a great fighter, and a brilliant teacher. You and Draco will learn loads from him.'

'I'm sure we will, Dad,' Harry said truthfully, and took another bite of steak.

* * *

The lessons with Remus began the second night after they got back, and Harry felt his resentment melt away by the end of the first session. Remus didn't treat Harry or Draco any differently than he had before the incident, and he _was_ an exceptional teacher. Just as in their Transfiguration classes, he took the time to explain the principles behind each spell. They started with very basic incantations: the Disarming Spell and rudimentary shields, but Remus insisted that they learn to cast them nonverbally.

'But we're not supposed to start nonverbal spells until our sixth year,' Draco protested after his twelfth failed attempt to Disarm his cousin.

'That's the classroom, where you don't have anything more serious to worry about than low marks,' Remus replied. 'In battle, however, you need every edge you can get. If you're always shouting your spells, your opponent will be better prepared to defend himself.'

Harry had a disturbing thought. 'What if you're battling a skilled Legilimens?' he asked. 'Mightn't he be able simply to pluck the spells out of your mind?'

'He would have to be extraordinarily powerful,' Remus replied. 'Legilimency takes concentration.' He sighed. 'However, if we're preparing you to fight Voldemort, we should definitely take that possibility into consideration. I'll look into it.' He swished his wand and easily Disarmed Harry. 'For now, however, we should focus on the task at hand.'

As winter slowly melted into spring, things continued at Hogwarts much as they ever had. There were classes, of course, and homework. The extra lessons with Remus carried on quite well, and by the end of March both Harry and Draco were able to cast a few basic spells nonverbally. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was solidly on their way to win the Cup, and Wood was utterly ecstatic.

Right after the Easter holidays, the twins, the cousins and Lee and Dean began a three-way prank war. It was the cousins' first major foray into mischief-making since the terrible events of the previous term, and they were determined to prove that they had not lost their touch. They spent an entire weekend under the Cloak, slipping from spot to spot, layering enchantment over enchantment. On Monday, they lay in wait just outside one of the principal corridors to set their plan in motion.

Professor Snape came bursting up the steps from the dungeons, his robes billowing behind him as always. He set foot into the corridor and froze as a single loud chord reverberated off the walls. The large stone on which he stood had turned bright green. All the students turned to watch him carefully in order to see what he would do. The Potions master narrowed his eyes and took another step. Another chord played – one that clashed rather terribly with the previous chord – and this time the stone glowed bright red.

'I'm afraid that just won't do,' sniffed one of the suits of armour. 'If you wish to cross the corridor, you must first display your patriotic pride.'

Snape scowled and took another step, only to be hurled back to the staircase. For the next two days, students and teachers alike tried to cross the corridors, only to be thrown back violently. The professors all reacted differently to the barrier, but none of them were able to remove the enchantments. Most everyone tried simply to go by alternate routes, even though this easily doubled the time it took for them to get anywhere. Fred and George tried to fly through on broomsticks, only to have the stones respond the same way as if they had stepped on them. Harry and Draco didn't want to show anyone else the way through, so they made use of numerous secret passages to get from place to place.

Remus was the first to figure out the prank. He stood on one side of the corridor for a whole hour, watching as everyone tried their luck at making their way across. He himself had not set foot in the corridor since the prank began, preferring instead to watch carefully and learn from the others' mistakes. Eventually he smiled, and hopped across the corridor easily, jumping from stone to stone and playing 'God Save The Queen'. Once he crossed the corridor successfully the suits of armour applauded him and launched into a chorus of 'Rule Britannia'. The amazed students joined in the applause. Remus bowed graciously, then flicked his wand and cancelled the enchantment. Professor Lupin had permanently sealed his reputation as the coolest professor ever.

* * *

Daphne stood over the stove, keeping careful watch over her omelette. Harry stood beside her.

'I think the bottom's set,' she said.

'All right,' replied Harry. 'What do you do now?'

'The cookbook says to flip the omelette.'

'So do it.'

'I don't know how,' Daphne said. 'I'm scared that I'll break it. Could you show me how to flip it?'

'No,' Harry replied casually.

'That's not very nice!' Daphne snapped. 'How am I supposed to learn if you won't show me?'

Harry flashed her a wry grin. 'I've never managed to flip an omelette without breaking it myself.'

'Oh.' Daphne's cheeks turned slightly pink. 'What do we do then?'

'Think about it,' Harry said. 'Why do we want to flip the omelette in the first place?'

'Because the recipe says we're supposed to,' Daphne replied automatically.

'Daphne!'

'Sorry,' the girl replied. She thought for a second. 'To make sure both sides are cooked.'

Harry smiled. 'Excellent. Now, can you think of any way of cooking the top without flipping the omelette?'

Daphne frowned, then squealed with delight as she figured it out. 'I know! We can use a Broiling Charm over the top.'

'Go ahead then.'

Daphne took out her wand and cast the Broiling Charm. Moments later, a perfect omelette was lying on her plate. She cut it in two and offered half to Harry. He accepted it graciously.

'So what's the key lesson here?' he asked as he took a bite.

'Don't worry about the recipe so much,' the girl replied. 'Focus instead on the results you want to achieve.'

'Precisely,' Harry said. 'All the processes they teach us in Potions are simply the best way they have found to achieve a certain result. It's not necessarily the best possible way. Sometimes the books even purposefully teach you an inferior method because they assume that the best way is too difficult for children to manage. So, once you understand why the ingredients interact the way they do, you can use that knowledge to find better ways of doing things.'

'I see,' Daphne said. 'I'd never thought of it like that before.'

'The omelette is perfect, by the way,' Harry observed.

Daphne beamed.

* * *

On a lovely afternoon in early May, Narcissa was sitting quietly on the terrace sipping a cup of tea and reading one of her favourite books. The emptiness of the house still bothered her, but she expected that to improve once Abraxas and Draco came home from school at the end of term. In the meantime, Sirius was taking great pains to ensure that she didn't wallow too long in self-pity. Narcissa smiled softly to herself. Her cousin had matured very well, she thought.

The chime indoors signalled an arrival via the Floo network. Sirius had come rather earlier than she had expected. Moments later she heard the sound of a wizard's resolute footsteps across the stone of the terrace. Narcissa put her book down, but did not turn around.

'You're early,' she said. 'I wasn't expecting you so soon.'

'Really, my dear, I should have thought you would have expected me to come much sooner.' The voice was cold, and definitely not Sirius.

Narcissa gasped and turned around slowly, only to look directly into Lucius's blazing blue eyes. She reached for her wand, but Lucius seized her arm roughly before she could grasp it.

'Let go, Lucius,' she said quietly. 'You're hurting me.'

The blond wizard smiled cruelly. 'Whatever makes you suppose that it was not precisely my intention to do so?'

Narcissa opened her mouth to call for Dobby, but no sound came out. Lucius must have cast a Silencing Charm. She struggled against his grip, but her husband was physically far stronger than she.

'Come now, Narcissa,' he whispered in her ear. 'Soon we shall all be a family again, united once more in the service of the Dark Lord.'

He dragged her back inside to the fireplace in the drawing room. Narcissa managed to grab hold of a heavy statue with her left hand and swing it at Lucius's head. He dodged easily out of the way, and she succeeded only in angering him.

'You will learn your place, woman,' he snarled, and grabbed her roughly by both arms. In desperation, Narcissa knocked over a table with her foot, shattering a priceless crystal vase. Dobby appeared moments later, just in time to see his former master drag his mistress through the fireplace.


	37. Part II: Chapter 8

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and I'm sorry for the delay in posting. The website was also acting up, and moving random paragraphs. I think I fixed it, but if there's something that just doesn't make any sense, please let me know. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 8

Sirius ran out of his bedroom, jumped up on the banister and slid down. Once he reached the bottom, he leapt off, landed on his feet and swept into the drawing room. He was whistling a cheerful tune and carried a bunch of freshly-picked daffodils. Clytemnestra and Cassiopeia exchanged an amused glance. Their young great-nephew had seemed unusually cheerful of late.

'Where are you off to with those lovely flowers, Sirius?' Clytemnestra asked with a wry smile.

'Ought the House of Black to expect the arrival of a new mistress in the near future?' Cassiopeia teased.

Sirius looked confused for a moment, then laughed.

'These? Oh no, there are for Cissy,' he explained. 'They're _her _flowers, you know. Narcissuses.'

Clytemnestra chuckled. 'You've been spending a lot of time at Malfoy Manor lately,' she said. 'I'm pleased that you and Narcissa have been enjoying one another's company.'

'Well, our sons are best friends, so it's easy enough for us to share war stories,' Sirius replied.

'Do you give flowers to the mothers of all your son's friends?' Cassiopeia asked innocently.

Sirius growled. 'Considering that the only other one I know is that Weasley woman, I should think not!' He stepped over to the fireplace. 'Anyway, I need to be going. Please tell Mopsy I most likely shan't be home until after dinner.'

'Have a good time,' Clytemnestra said, forcing herself to look down at her needlepoint.

Sirius looked at his aunts strangely. 'What's come over you two lately?'

'Nothing,' Cassiopeia retorted. She looked as though she was trying very hard to keep from laughing. 'It's just been very lovely weather this year.'

'Indeed,' Clytemnestra agreed. 'Perfect weather for...daffodils.'

The two old women could contain themselves no longer and burst into hearty laughter. Sirius was worried that they might have gone mad.

'Will you two be all right if I go?' he asked cautiously.

'Go, you idiot boy,' Cassiopeia snapped, waving him on. Sirius took this as sufficient confirmation that his great-aunt was still herself, and promptly Flooed over to Malfoy Manor before he could be subjected to any more of their curious insinuations.

Sirius stepped out of the fireplace to find Malfoy Manor in complete chaos. A table lay toppled over on its side, bits of glass were dispersed across the marble floor and a dented bronze Apollo had fallen near the fireplace. Dobby stood snivelling in the midst of the disorder.

'What's happened here?' Sirius demanded of the elf. 'Where's your Mistress?'

'Dobby's old Master Lucius was taking Dobby's Mistress, sir,' Dobby sobbed. 'Dobby is not hearing where he is taking her.'

'Lucius?' Sirius frowned. 'But how? I thought your Master removed him from the wards.'

'Dobby is not knowing how his old Master Lucius was coming through the wards,' the elf replied. 'But he is not triggering any alarms, sir.'

Sirius's eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. 'It looks like there was a struggle. Narcissa is a powerful witch, Dobby. How did Lucius overpower her?'

'Dobby doesn't know, sir,' the elf muttered apologetically.

'Where was she when Lucius arrived?'

'Dobby can't be sure, sir, but Dobby is thinking that Mistress was sitting on the terrace.'

Sirius darted through the open doors onto the stone terrace. He sighed when he saw Narcissa's wand lying on a table alongside the book she had been reading. He collected it promptly and placed it in his pocket.

'Dobby!' he barked, and the elf appeared, ready to do his bidding. 'Secure the house against all intruders,' Sirius commanded. 'No one is to be allowed in without the express authorisation of either myself or your Master.'

'Dobby understands, sir,' the elf replied with a bow. 'Dobby will carry out his orders.'

Sirius thanked his lucky stars that Abraxas had ordered the elf to obey him without question. He disconnected the fireplace from the Floo network and Apparated back to Windermere Court. Cassiopeia and Clytemnestra were startled to see him appear.

'You're back quickly,' Clytemnestra observed. 'What's the matter?'

'Narcissa's been kidnapped,' Sirius replied. His aunts gasped.

'But who would dare to raise their wand against a daughter of the House of Black?' Cassiopeia demanded.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Lucius.'

'Good Lord,' Clytemnestra whispered. 'Surely not.'

'She is his wife,' Cassiopeia pointed out. 'Are you sure she didn't go willingly?'

Sirius showed them Narcissa's wand. 'If she had gone voluntarily she would hardly have left her wand behind,' he said. 'Besides, I've seen the house. Tables were turned over and vases shattered. There was clearly a struggle.'

'But why would he do such a horrible thing?' Clytemnestra asked.

'Who knows?' Sirius replied. 'The question is how we're going to respond.'

'This vile assault on our family must not be tolerated,' Cassiopeia snapped.

Sirius's grey eyes flashed dangerously.

'I assure you, Aunt Cassie,' he said in a low voice. 'Toleration is the very last thing on my mind.'

'What are you going to do?' Clytemnestra asked.

Sirius took a deep breath. 'If he's gone so far as to kidnap Cissy,' he said, 'he'll probably go after Draco too. He may also try to strike at Aries or other family members. I'll go to Hogwarts and fetch the boys. We could also use the help of Remus and Abraxas. Aunt Clytemnestra, I want you to go over to number twelve, Grimmauld Place and have them prepare to receive us. Send owls to Granny, Ignatius and the Tonkses. Let them know what's happened and invite them to join us. I want all the family together before we develop our plan of attack.'

Clytemnestra nodded and headed for the fireplace.

'Grimmauld Place makes sense,' Cassiopeia said. 'It's probably the most heavily warded house in Britain.'

'I don't care,' Sirius replied. 'It's not good enough. I want you to go through your books and put the strongest defences you can think of on that house. I want you to make my father's paranoia look like sweet, childish naïveté in comparison.'

'Any restrictions on the sort of wards I can use?' she asked.

'Don't kill anyone to make them,' Sirius said after a moment's thought. 'But the protections can be as lethal as you like. Do your worst.'

Cassiopeia smirked nastily and headed up the stairs to her private collection of special spell books.

'Mopsy!' Sirius called out, and the faithful house elf appeared with a pop.

'Yes, Master?' she asked.

'The family is under attack,' Sirius said matter-of-factly. 'Prepare trunks for me, Miss Cassie and Mistress Black, then take them over to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.'

'Mopsy is hearing and obeying,' the elf said with a bow.

'When you've done that, come back here and secure the house against intruders. After Miss Cassie leaves, no one is to come in or out without my express authorisation. Do I make myself clear?'

Mopsy bowed in response, and Sirius walked over to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames.

'Professor Lupin's office, Hogwarts,' he said in a strong voice, and stepped into the fire.

* * *

Abraxas Malfoy stood in the front of the Defence classroom, lecturing to a group of sixth-year Hufflepuffs. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had found that he rather enjoyed teaching. Even more surprisingly, he found that he quite enjoyed teaching Hufflepuffs. They might not be the brightest torches on the wall, but they made up for it with sheer diligence. They were respectful, obedient and hung on his every word, which were qualities Abraxas greatly admired in his subordinates. Indeed, he thought, the world would be much better off if most everyone were Hufflepuffs, with just a few Slytherins to rule over them. Perhaps one could add a handful of Gryffindors, just to make things interesting. Ravenclaws, however, Abraxas could very happily do without. They thought far too much for everyone else's good.

Suddenly the door burst open and a wizard barged in. It was Sirius. Achilles' rage had nothing on his. The cold fire in his grey eyes spoke of murder and vengeance. Not for the first time, Abraxas was reminded uncomfortably of just how much Sirius resembled his infamous great-grandfather and namesake, both in appearance and in temperament.

'What's happened, Sirius?' he demanded.

'Remus's office, ten minutes,' Sirius snapped, then turned on his heel and stormed out.

Abraxas turned white. Whatever the problem was, it was deadly serious.

'Class dismissed,' he announced without a second thought, and the Hufflepuffs filed out. Abraxas gathered his things and headed for Lupin's office, stopping by his own quarters for a bit of brandy to steady his nerves. When he arrived at Remus's office, he was unsurprised to find the Transfiguration master waiting with Draco and Aries.

'What's going on, Granddad?' Draco asked nervously.

'I don't know,' Abraxas replied. 'Do you know, Professor Lupin?'

Lupin shook his head. 'Sirius didn't tell me anything. He just told me to gather the children and bring them here.'

A moment later, Sirius himself came in, Headmistress McGonagall following closely on his footsteps.

'There must be some reason, Sirius,' she protested. 'You can't just barge in here and take away two of my students and two of my faculty members without explanation! If this is some prank...'

Sirius spun around and glared coldly at the stern witch. 'Narcissa Malfoy has been kidnapped,' he said. 'I suspect the perpetrator may also come after the boys. I'm taking them to a secure location. As for Remus and Abraxas, I'll be happy to send them back to you as soon as possible, but for now I need their help more than you do.'

The Headmistress nodded briefly. 'I understand,' she said in a businesslike tone. 'In that case, I wish you all the best of luck.' She turned and left.

'Uncle Sirius,' Draco began, but Sirius shook his head.

'Wait till we get home,' he said, and Draco nodded. Sirius stepped over to the fireplace and tossed in a handful of Floo powder.

'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place,' he snapped, and ushered them all through the flames.

On the other side of the fireplace, they found themselves in the midst of an extraordinary amount of hustle and bustle. Melania and Roquefort were standing in the drawing room with an immense pile of luggage. Irma and Kreacher were having a detailed discussion over who would be sleeping in which rooms, whilst Druella and Clytemnestra were yelling at each other in the front hall.

'I tell you, Clytemnestra, we are simply in no position to entertain all these guests,' Druella protested. 'Mother Black and I have grown accustomed to our quiet way of life, and we will not tolerate this disruption.'

'You'll be quiet and do as you're told!' the Squib shot back.

Cassiopeia came in through the Floo, a number of old manuscripts in her arms.

'I have several suggestions, Sirius,' she announced. 'Once we have everyone here we can begin setting them up.'

'Have you contacted the others?' Sirius asked Clytemnestra.

His great-aunt nodded. 'Melania's already here, as you can see. As for Ignatius Prewett – well, he's still upset over what happened at Christmas and doesn't want to come.' She sniffed. 'I did, however, make it clear that he's welcome if he ever changes his mind. I haven't heard back from the Tonkses.'

'I don't understand,' Abraxas said to Sirius. 'Why is everyone coming here?'

'Since Narcissa was kidnapped, it's reasonable to assume that everyone else is in danger too,' Sirius replied. 'I want the family where I can keep an eye on them.'

'Who did it?' Aries asked. His brow was knitted in concern, but blue fire raged in Draco's eyes.

'It was him, wasn't it?' the blond boy spat.

Sirius nodded and placed a comforting hand on his nephew's shoulder. 'Lucius took her,' he said. 'Dobby saw it, but was too late to prevent it.'

Abraxas was shocked at the idea. Never in a million years would he have thought his son capable of such a thing.

'Are you sure it was kidnapping?' he asked hopefully. 'He is her husband, after all. Perhaps she went willingly.'

'We already asked that,' Cassiopeia told him. 'She left her wand behind, and Sirius saw evidence of a struggle.'

'How did he get in?' Lupin asked. 'I thought he'd been taken off the wards.'

'So did I,' Sirius replied coldly. 'But Dobby saw him leave through the fireplace.'

All eyes turned to Abraxas, and the old wizard shifted uncomfortably.

'I did remove Lucius from the wards,' he said defensively. 'But he lived at the Manor for many years. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that he had placed his own backdoors into the system.'

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes. 'Not to mention that there are numerous potions and spells designed with the express purpose of fooling ordinary wards,' she pointed out.

'That too,' Abraxas said. 'If Lucius has gone back to the service of the Dark Lord...er, Riddle, rather...it would be no difficulty for him to obtain such tools.'

Sirius turned on him. 'Then why didn't you take extraordinary measures!' he shouted. 'We could have used Fidelius! We could have placed the house under lockdown!'

Druella sniffed. 'All of which would have had the effect of making my daughter a prisoner in her own home,' she said. 'Be reasonable, Sirius.'

'As much as I am loathe to admit it, Druella has a point,' Cassiopeia said, trying very hard not to gag at the idea. 'None of us could have anticipated that Lucius would commit such an atrocity.'

'He's an effing Death Eater!' Sirius snapped back.

'He's also her husband,' Lupin said reasonably, placing a hand on his friend's back. 'If he wanted to talk to her, or to persuade her to come back to him, most people would expect him to send an owl before trying to kidnap her.' Sirius began to calm down, and Abraxas relaxed. He knew there was a reason he liked Lupin.

'You have a point,' Sirius agreed reluctantly. 'She hasn't heard from Lucius since he left. She even sent him a few owls. He didn't reply.'

'Then why did he kidnap her?' Draco shouted. 'It can't have been just to have a chat. It must have something to do with Riddle!'

Sirius sighed. 'You're probably right.' He paused. 'I think everyone's here who's going to be here,' he said. 'Let's start setting up those wards. Then we can plan our response.'

It took them several hours to set up the defences. Cassiopeia had clearly been hoping for the chance to set up such outrageously illegal wards for some time, and eagerly took command of the process.

'You do realise that anyone not on the approved list who tries to enter the house will die a painful, prolonged and gruesome death?' Lupin observed.

'Good,' Sirius replied coldly. His friend stared at him for a moment wide-eyed, then decided to give him a bit of space.

'I'm glad I'm on his good side,' Lupin muttered to Abraxas on his way out of the room. The older wizard chuckled, and nodded in agreement.

'Sirius may not like to admit it, but he's his parents' son through and through,' Abraxas replied.

'Don't let him hear you say that,' Lupin said with a grin. 'He'll set the wards to fry you too.'

Sirius looked over his shoulder and glared at them.

'Watch it, you two,' he growled. 'I just might.'

Lupin and Abraxas laughed and went outside to help Cassiopeia set up the outer perimeter. When they were done, Abraxas thought that the universe could explode, and the house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place would nonetheless emerge unscathed.

After a quick supper, Sirius convened a family war council in the dining room. Abraxas noticed that both Draco and Aries took seats near the foot of the table.

'You two run along,' Clytemnestra told them, not unkindly. 'The adults will take care of this.'

'It's my mum, Aunt Clytemnestra,' Draco replied.

'We're staying,' Aries insisted.

Clytemnestra looked at Sirius questioningly. The young wizard nodded.

'They have a right to know what's going on,' he said.

The boys eagerly took their seats along with everyone else. Sirius had just begun to speak when the doorbell rang. Everyone tensed.

'Check and see who it is, Moony,' Sirius said.

Lupin got up and looked through the eyehole in the door.

'It's the Tonkses,' he announced.

'Let them in,' Sirius said. 'They're already on the approved list.'

Druella opened her mouth to protest, but Sirius glared at her threateningly, and the old harridan shut up. Abraxas chuckled in delight. Sirius had inherited Walburga's glare.

The Tonkses walked into the dining room. Their faces were long.

'When we heard what happened to Cissy, we decided we had to help,' Andromeda said hesitantly.

Sirius nodded. 'You're all welcome,' he said. 'Take a seat.'

The meeting began in fine Black tradition with everyone making an Unbreakable Vow to keep secret from outsiders everything that they discussed at the meeting.

'Very well,' Sirius began. 'What facts have we established for certain? Dobby told us that Lucius took Narcissa from Malfoy Manor through the fireplace. I saw that Narcissa left her wand behind, and there was evidence of a struggle, so we may presume that she did not go willingly.'

'We know that Lucius is in the service of the Dark Lord,' Cassiopeia added.

'Can we be sure of that?' Druella asked. 'This could be simply a family squabble.'

'Lucius himself admitted that he gave Draco the cursed diary at the behest of Voldemort,' Sirius said.

'But how do you know that he returned to Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named afterwards?' Andromeda asked. 'It might have made more sense for him to flee.'

'We have our sources,' Sirius said. 'We are confident of their accuracy.'

'In that case, it is reasonable to suppose that Voldemort approved Lucius's actions,' Lupin pointed out.

Abraxas nodded. 'The Death Eaters would never dream of taking serious action without at least the tacit approval of their master.'

'Couldn't it have been a crime of passion?' Ted Tonks suggested.

Abraxas glared at the Muggle-born as though he were a bit of dung on his boot.

'Don't be stupid,' he snapped. 'Lucius doesn't have a passionate bone in his body. He planned this very carefully. He had to have done in order to break through the wards.'

'But what would Riddle want with my mum?' Draco asked.

Sirius frowned. 'And where are they now? Those are the real questions, aren't they?'

'Well, you said he left by Floo, right?' Dora piped up. Sirius nodded. 'The Ministry keep a record of all Floo activity for forty-eight hours,' she continued. 'The Aurors have access to it.'

Sirius grinned, and winked at Cassiopeia, who harrumphed. 'I knew having an Auror in the family might come in handy,' he said. 'I disconnected Malfoy Manor from the Floo Network before I left, so the last outgoing connexion ought to be Lucius's. Do you think you can manage to look it up for us, Dora?'

The Metamorphmagus nodded eagerly. 'It shouldn't be a problem at all.'

'I doubt very much that Lucius would have been so stupid as to Floo directly back to wherever they're hiding,' Lupin pointed out.

'True,' Sirius admitted. 'But the Floo destination will at least give us an idea of where to begin.'

The meeting continued for another half-hour, but there was little more they could do before Dora found out Lucius's destination, which would not be possible until she went to work the next day, as trainee Aurors did not have after-hours privileges. They agreed to meet the next evening, and the Tonkses left. Most of the family retired to bed, and Lupin and Abraxas returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

Draco couldn't sleep that night, so he and Harry stayed up playing chess in Regulus's old room.

'I'm really sorry about what happened to your mum, Draco,' Harry said.

'I don't want to talk about it,' his cousin muttered. He moved his rook forward three spaces. 'Check.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Are you sure you want to do that?'

'Of course I am,' Draco snapped irritably. 'I did it, didn't I?'

Harry shrugged and took the castle with his knight.

Draco stared at the board blankly. 'Damn.'

'Your heart doesn't really seem to be in the game,' Harry observed. 'Do you want to do something else? Exploding Snap?'

His cousin shook his head and moved a bishop. 'I doubt my heart will be in that, either. I mostly want something to pass the time.'

Harry yawned. 'Why don't you ask Dad for a sleeping potion?'

'What if there's news?' Draco replied in a small voice. 'Mum could need me, and I shouldn't be able to wake up.'

Harry nodded at his cousin sympathetically, then moved his queen straight across the board.

'Checkmate,' he said with a grin.

'Prat,' Draco muttered.

The door opened, and Sirius came in.

'What are you two still doing up?' he asked, though he didn't look anywhere close to going to bed himself.

'I couldn't sleep,' Draco said. 'Aries was sitting up with me.'

Sirius nodded. 'May I join you?' he asked.

'Of course,' Harry replied, and scooted over to make more room on the bed. Sirius sat down cross-legged.

'Merlin, Draco,' he said, glancing at the chessboard. 'Aries crushed you.'

Draco snorted. 'I've been a bit distracted.'

'That's understandable,' Sirius said. He chewed his lower lip before continuing. 'Draco, could you give me and Aries a minute, please?'

'All right,' Draco replied, and hopped off the bed. 'I'll grab us a couple of butterbeers from the kitchen, Aries.'

'Thanks,' Harry said.

'Could you get me one too whilst you're at it?' Sirius asked.

Draco nodded. 'No problem.'

Once he shut the door, Sirius turned to look at Harry.

'I have something important to ask of you,' he said. 'Feel free to say no. There's no pressure. I didn't even want to ask you, but Aunt Cassie convinced me to give you the choice.'

'What is it, Dad?' Harry asked.

'You have this connexion with Riddle, right?' Sirius began. Harry nodded. 'How does it work? Have you any control over the visions, or do they happen randomly?'

Harry thought for a moment. 'Mostly randomly,' he said. 'But when I had the diary, sometimes the visions would occur when I was thinking about something in particular.'

Sirius winced, as though it was painful for him to continue.

'Do you think there's any way you could initiate a vision? Maybe use it to find out some particular bit of information?'

Harry grinned. He liked where his dad was going with this. 'Such as where he's stashed Aunt Narcissa?'

'That's right,' Sirius said. 'You don't have to. It's risky. But...' He trailed off.

'It could save Aunt Narcissa's life,' Harry finished for him.

Sirius nodded. 'Otherwise, I shouldn't even mention it.'

'I'll see what I can do,' Harry said.

Just then, Draco returned with their butterbeers, and Sirius broke out a deck of cards. They played until long after midnight, when the drifted off one-by-one on top of the large bed. Sirius fell asleep first, followed by Harry. Sleep claimed Draco last of all.


	38. Part II: Chapter 9

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: My profound thanks to all the readers, and especially to the reviewers! I am profoundly flattered that so many people are enjoying this story. Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 9

Remus Lupin walked through the squeaky door into the dingy pub and sat down at the bar. The pub was nearly full, despite the early hour, and every eye turned to look at him when he walked in. A half-blood, Remus had always moved with ease in the Muggle world, and was unaccustomed to such a reaction. On the other hand, he supposed, Little Hangleton was a very insular community.

'I'd like a pint, please,' Remus said courteously, and the barman handed over the ale.

The stares continued. Remus wasn't sure how he would learn anything if the villagers were so suspicious of strangers.

Ultimately, the werewolf had come to this secluded valley because of Dora Tonks's report the night before. It turned out that Lucius had followed a very convoluted set of Floo jumps after leaving Malfoy Manor, but the trail ended in the home of an elderly witch who lived in the nearby town of Great Hangleton. Sirius and Remus had promptly gone to investigate, only to find the old woman dead, and no sign of Lucius, Narcissa or Voldemort. Upon their return to Malfoy Manor, Cassiopeia had pointed out that Lucius's destination was nonetheless most likely somewhere in the general vicinity, and Sirius had launched a massive search. He and Abraxas were combing through Great Hangleton, whilst Cassiopeia was scouring the neighbouring hamlet of Bracksmeade. Remus had been asked to investigate Little Hangleton, though no one thought it likely that Voldemort had chosen this remote, thoroughly Muggle location for his hideout.

'I haven't seen you round these parts before,' observed an elderly man in old working clothes who sat to Remus's right.

'It's my first time here,' Remus explained. 'I was on my way through and I thought I'd stop in for a pint.'

The old man nodded. 'You'll have to forgive that lot for staring at you,' he said, gesturing at the gawkers. 'We've been a bit suspicious of outsiders ever since that funny business up at Riddle House.'

Remus could barely suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

'Riddle House?' he repeated.

'It's the big manor up on the hill,' the man explained. 'Used to belong to the Riddle family. Stuck-up toffs they were, thought they were better than the rest of us. They used to own over half the village.'

'What happened to them?' Remus asked.

'Lots of strange things,' the man replied. 'You wouldn't believe it if I told you. None of these blokes do.'

Remus smiled at the stranger. 'Try me.'

'Well, their problems started with this huge scandal some seventy years back,' the old Muggle began, 'when I was just a lad myself. You see, young Tom Riddle, the heir of the family, and quite a good-looking bloke, ran off with this queer girl. Gaunt, I believe her name was...'

As Remus heard the man's tale, he realised beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt that he had come to the right place. He listened politely and bought the man another pint when he'd drained his first.

'And those murders were fifty years ago,' the old Muggle went on. 'We'd thought it was over and done with. But then, just a few weeks ago, old Frank Bryce went missing. He's the caretaker up at Riddle House. He just vanished one day, and no one's heard or seen anything from him.' He leaned closer to Remus and began whispering conspiratorially. 'But there have been strange happenings up at that house ever since then,' he said. 'Odd lights flashing in the windows, even though no one's lived there for years.' He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. 'And the other night,' he continued in a voice so low that Remus could hardly make him out, 'my Jack was up round there with some mates of his, and he told me he saw several strange men coming in and out. They were dressed funny, he says. Wearing cloaks and masks and whatnot.'

Remus froze. How many Death Eaters could they be facing? Several months had passed between Lucius's exile and Narcissa's abduction. It was foolish to think that Voldemort had not been using that time to his full advantage. Rescuing Narcissa might prove more difficult than they had hoped. He needed to tell Sirius right away.

He thanked the Muggle and quickly paid his bill before all but running out the door of the pub. He turned down an alley and pulled out a small handheld mirror.

'Sirius Black,' he hissed, and the mirror shimmered for a minute before his friend's face appeared in the glass.

'Hey there, Moony,' Sirius said. 'Any luck?'

'He's here, Padfoot,' Remus whispered. 'Riddle's holed up here in Little Hangleton.'

Sirius's grey eyes went wide. 'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely,' Remus replied. 'I've rather a lot to tell you, and I'd like to do it face-to-face.'

'Understood,' Sirius said. 'I'll gather up Abraxas and Aunt Cassie and we'll meet you back at Grimmauld Place in ten minutes.'

Remus nodded. 'See you there.'

The mirror went blank, and Remus slipped it back into his pocket before turning on his heel and Disapparating.

* * *

The room was empty, save the hard-backed wooden chair on which Narcissa sat, her gaze fixed and her posture perfect. Years worth of dust had accumulated on every surface, and the blonde witch wrinkled her nose at the filth. Her arms and legs were bound tightly to the chair with magical rope, and her delicate skin chafed under the pressure.

Her mouth was dry and sticky – she would have given her right arm for a glass of water – and her stomach rumbled. She had seen no sign of her husband since he had brought her here two days before. He had given her neither food nor water, and she had sat up in that horrid chair the whole time. Narcissa was exhausted, starving and filthy, and to make matters worse, she hadn't the faintest notion of why Lucius had done this.

Her relations with her husband had always been cordial, and, at times, quite affectionate. Even after his shocking behaviour towards their son and his consequent dismissal from the family, she had not wished to lose contact with him. She had sent him owls, even offered him money, but Lucius had made no reply to her generous overtures. Narcissa had believed that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

But now he had abducted her and brought her to some secluded Muggle house – at least she presumed it was a Muggle house, as she had seen no sign of magic on her way in. In any event, the house had clearly been long abandoned. It made no sense to her at all.

The lock clicked, and Lucius stepped through the door, carrying a pewter plate, on which sat a large crust of bread, and a small cup of water. He set them down on the window sill.

'Untie me at once, Lucius,' Narcissa demanded. 'How dare you presume to abduct me and keep me prisoner? I am your wife.'

Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'As far as I'm concerned, you lost all privileges associated with that title when you and my father took Black's side against me.'

'You used our son as a weapon against his best friend and tried to kill my cousin,' Narcissa reminded him. 'How would you have me respond?'

'I would have you submit to my decisions like an obedient wife and trust me when I say that I have acted for the best,' Lucius replied.

'Trust you?' Narcissa laughed bitterly. 'I shall never trust you again.'

Lucius ran a hand along her cheek, and the witch shivered.

'You're quite right, I'm afraid,' he said quietly. 'There can never again be trust between us. You have betrayed me, Narcissa, and I can never forgive that. However, I will permit you to earn back some small part of what you have forfeited through your actions.'

'My actions?' Narcissa snapped. 'How dare you?'

'Temper, temper, my dear,' Lucius said smoothly. 'I swear you sound more like your mother with each passing year.' He Levitated the chair over to the window, then untied her left hand with a flick of his wand. 'Eat, drink and be merry, Narcissa,' he said. 'You must recover your strength before the Dark Lord admits you into his presence.'

Narcissa turned very pale. 'The Dark Lord is here?'

'Naturally,' Lucius sneered. 'It was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who commanded me to retrieve you and bring you here. He has plans for you. Do not worry, my love. Once he is done with you he has promised to turn you over to me, and we can resume our lives of wedded bliss.'

His wife tried to spit at him, but she didn't have nearly enough saliva to manage it.

'Tut, tut, Narcissa,' Lucius said disapprovingly. 'That's not very lady-like. The wife of Lucius Malfoy must maintain her dignity at all times.'

'You can do what you like to me,' Narcissa replied in a cold voice, 'but as far as I am concerned you are no longer my husband.'

Lucius shrugged. 'The Imperius Curse may yet change your mind,' he said. 'We will be a family again, Narcissa. One way or another.'

The witch's pride made her want to refuse the bread and water Lucius had brought, to throw them back in his face, but her empty stomach and parched throat persuaded her otherwise. She drained the cup in a single draught, then began nibbling at the bread. When she had finished, Lucius flicked his wand again, freeing her feet and tying both her hands behind her back. He forced her to stand, then led her down a dark corridor to a musty room, lit only by a small fire.

There, sitting in a high-backed armchair, was the Dark-Lord-possessed former Defence master.

Narcissa thought fast. Once again her highly-developed Slytherin instincts did battle with her pureblood pride, and once again her wish to survive won out. Narcissa decided to do what she knew best. She dropped into a low curtsey.

'My lord,' she said in a docile voice. Even with dishevelled hair and both arms tied behind her back, the witch cut quite an impressive figure. Lucius looked at her strangely. The cold cackling that Narcissa knew all too well emanated from the back of Quirrell's head.

'"My lord", Narcissa?' Voldemort replied. 'I was under the impression that you were now consorting with my enemies.'

Narcissa laughed, doing her best to imitate her eldest sister. 'My lord, I am afraid that Lucius has lied to you. I am as loyal to your cause as my unfortunate sister. Had Lucius made even the slightest effort to persuade me by more gentlemanly means, I should have flocked willingly to your banner.'

'Lies,' Lucius growled. 'My lord, I told her that it was at your orders that I gave the Black brat the diary.'

Narcissa sniffed. 'And why should I believe you under such circumstances, Lucius?' she said, her haughty voice dripping with the scorn that only a Black could summon. 'I know that you have always been jealous of your nephew's power.'

Lucius looked at his wife with a mixture of disbelief and amazement.

'Yes,' Voldemort said, cutting in. 'Let's talk more about the boy. He is, after all, the reason I have brought you to my late father's house.'

'What does my lord wish to know?' Narcissa asked, bowing her head.

When the Dark Lord responded, his hoarse voice sent tremors up the witch's spine.

'Everything.'

* * *

In the library at Grimmauld Place, Harry fell to the ground screaming. He clutched desperately at his forehead.

'Aries?' Draco asked anxiously. 'What's the matter?' When his cousin made no response, he summoned the house elf. 'KREACHER!' he shouted, and the elf appeared with a pop. 'Master Aries has taken ill,' Draco said. 'Has Master Sirius returned yet?'

Kreacher shook his head. 'No, Master Draco,' he croaked. 'Master is still out searching for Miss Cissy.'

'Then kindly fetch my Aunt Clytemnestra and bring her here.'

The elf bowed and vanished, and moments later the Squib came rushing in.

'Great Merlin!' she exclaimed at the sight of Harry writhing on the floor. 'What happened?'

'I don't know,' Draco said. 'We were just doing our homework, and it was like he had a fit or something.'

With Kreacher's assistance, Clytemnestra and Draco managed to get Harry upstairs to his bedroom. The Squib took a wet washcloth and used it to cool Harry's forehead. He was burning up, and there was a strange, fiercely-red patch of skin just beneath his hairline.

After a few moments, Sirius ran into the room, still wearing his Muggle clothes. Remus, Abraxas and Cassiopeia followed close behind.

'What happened?' Sirius demanded. 'Kreacher told us Aries was ill.'

Draco shook his head. 'I'm not certain. We were working on our homework in the library, and he suddenly put his hands to his head and started yelling.'

Sirius sat down on the bed next to Harry and took over the washcloth from Clytemnestra. After a few minutes, Harry began to stir. His eyes shot open and he sat straight up in the bed.

'I saw Aunt Narcissa!' he exclaimed. 'She and Lucius were with Riddle. Riddle said they were in his father's house.'

Sirius and Remus exchanged a meaningful look.

'It looks like we have independent confirmation of your theory, Moony,' Sirius said. He turned back to Harry and tried to lay him back down. Harry resisted.

'No, we need to go rescue her!' he protested.

'You're not doing anything,' Sirius said sternly. 'You're going to stay here and rest.'

'I don't need rest,' Harry snapped. 'I'm fine. I just had a vision.'

'You passed out, Aries,' Clytemnestra said. 'I think that hardly qualifies as fine.'

Sirius ran a hand through his son's hair. 'We'll take care of this. I promise. Did you see anything else that might help?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not really. They were in a room with a fireplace, and Riddle said they were in his father's old house. Aunt Narcissa curtseyed to him.' He blushed uncomfortably. 'She said she had always been loyal to him, that she would have come willingly if Lucius had only given her a chance.'

Draco and Sirius frowned in confusion, but Abraxas laughed.

'She's a Slytherin through and through, isn't she?' he said fondly.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Sirius snapped.

Cassiopeia gave him a withering glare. 'It's a sensible strategy,' she told him. 'Narcissa is being held captive. She has neither wand nor allies in her prison. It's always wise to play along with one's captor.'

'You think that's it?' Draco said in a small voice. 'You don't think she's really gone over to Riddle's side?'

Abraxas shook his head. 'Of course not, my lad,' he said confidently. 'It's only a strategy. Don't you fear.'

Draco looked up at Sirius for confirmation. His uncle forced a smile and placed a strong hand on the blond boy's shoulder.

'I'm sure that's it,' he said, but both Draco and Harry could tell that he was not completely confident in his own words.

'There's more,' Harry whispered. 'Riddle said that he had Lucius kidnap her because he wants to learn more about me.'

Sirius's expression hardened. 'Is there anything else?' he asked evenly.

Harry shook his head. 'No, that's all.'

'Then you two stay here,' his dad said firmly. 'We'll take care of this.'

* * *

Late that night, Jack Miller and his best mate, Michael Lucas, were sitting parked in Jack's car halfway up the hill to Riddle House, watching as several men in cloaks entered the old house.

'See, I told you they'd do it again,' Jack said.

'All right,' Michael replied nervously. 'But do we have to be here spying on them? Let's go down to the pub.'

Jack shook his head firmly. 'I bet they're criminals of some sort. There's probably a reward for turning them in.'

'Are you daft?' Michael retorted. 'You mess with people like that and they're likely to kill you.'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped at a sudden swooshing sound overhead. He jumped out of the car to see what was happening, and Michael reluctantly followed. They looked up into the sky and gasped. They rubbed their eyes, and gasped again.

Overhead, silhouetted against the half-moon, was what could only be described as a witch. An old crone was flying on a broomstick, her pointed hat perched on her head and her long black robes flowing behind her. If only her skin were green, she would have looked just like the Wicked Witch of the West. She cackled gleefully as she swooped down towards the house.

'_CONFRINGO!_' she shouted, and the two young men looked at each other in confusion. Then there was a terrible explosion, and their eyes swerved back to the manor house, where a small fire was now burning on the rooftop. Several of the men in cloaks came rushing back out, brandishing sticks in their hands. As they waved the sticks, strange lights shot out in various colours.

There was more cackling overhead, and four more witches came zooming in on broomsticks. Three of them were dressed much like the first, but the fourth wore a T-shirt and jeans, and seemed to have spiky pink hair.

'Blimey,' Michael breathed. 'Do you reckon we're drunk, Jack?'

Jack nodded glumly. 'I think we must be.'

* * *

Cassiopeia Black was in her element. The wind was rushing through her robes and curses were flying madly. Battlelust overtook her in a way she hadn't felt since her days in Grindelwald's service. She swooped down towards the Death Eaters, slightly put out that she couldn't see whom she was fighting because of their blasted masks. She raised her wand and sent a spurt of Fiendfyre towards one rather portly wizard. He managed to jump out of the way, but that only cleared the Fiendfyre's path towards the wizard standing behind him. Cassiopeia smiled when she heard his screams. That was Crabbe, she thought. Irma would be annoyed.

Irma and Druella were locked in duels of their own. The two women might annoy Cassiopeia to no end, but there was no doubt they could fight, and fly too. Druella dipped and swerved as she dodged jets of green and red light, and then fired off several Bone-Breaking Curses, two of which reached their targets. Irma flew very high in the air, and then dived straight down to the ground at breathtaking speed, Cruciating the Death Eater who stood below her. He passed out shortly before she hit the ground, and she managed to pull up at the last second.

Andromeda and Dora were focussing their assault on the house itself, firing Blasting Curses one after another. The wards that had been put up were most impressive - what else would one expect from Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? - but the two witches' goal was not so much to destroy the house as to keep the Death Eaters distracted above ground, whilst Sirius, Lupin and Abraxas tunnelled up from below.

'_Stupefy!_'

Cassiopeia executed a perfect roll and barely dodged the curse. She quickly scanned the ground to see who had attacked her. It was the fat wizard.

'_CRUCIO!_' she shouted, then shifted her wand a bit to the left and whispered, '_Avada Kedavra._'

As expected, the foolish man stepped neatly out of the way of the Torture Curse and directly into the path of the Killing Curse. It was very tidy. Cassiopeia only regretted that it was so quiet - she had no idea who the whale of a wizard had been.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Cassiopeia saw one of the Death Eaters raise his wand at Dora. The old witch's grey eyes gleamed as she twirled around in the air and swept towards him. She levelled her wand directly at his chest.

'_Sanguiferveo_,' she whispered, and the wizard cried out in agony.

_Nott_, she thought with a smile. _I owed him._

* * *

Meanwhile, within Riddle Manor, the Dark Lord himself sat ensconced in his armchair, with Lucius standing at his side and Narcissa kneeling at his feet. He had little concern for the fight going on outside. After all, his wards were impenetrable.

'I'm very disappointed, Narcissa,' he wheezed. 'After your protestations of loyalty, I should have thought you would be more honest with your master.'

'I have been, my lord,' the witch whispered, her expression desperate.

'Do not lie to Lord Voldemort,' the evil sorcerer replied dangerously. 'I can see into the depths of your heart and read the treachery that is written there. You have been lying in order to protect your nephew. What powers does he possess that you have yet to reveal to me?'

'None, my lord,' Narcissa said in a faint voice.

'_CRUCIO!_' Voldemort shouted, and the witch began to writhe in pain on the floor, screaming.

Miles away, back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry cried out as well.

'It's your mum, Draco,' he gasped. 'Riddle's figured out she was lying to him. He's torturing her.'

His cousin went white. 'We've got to rescue her, Aries.'

'Dad and the others...,' Harry began.

'Might be too late,' Draco finished. 'It could take them hours to break through the wards, if they get through at all. As soon as Riddle decides that Mum isn't going to be any more use to him, he'll kill her!'

Harry paused, then nodded curtly. 'You're right. We've got to do something.'

'Shall we fly?' Draco asked.

Harry shook his head. 'That would take too long, and it wouldn't help us to break through the wards.' His eyes glinted. 'I have a far better idea.'

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes, whispering in Parseltongue and concentrating on Voldemort and on his wards. His forehead began to ache, and Harry knew that he had made the connexion.


	39. Part II: Chapter 10

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting. I think I should be forbidden to read fanfiction whilst I'm writing it. It's a terrible distraction. Moreover, I had the hardest time writing this chapter for some reason. Anyway, here it is...**

* * *

Chapter 10

Harry's body remained seated comfortably on the floor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, but his mind sailed far away along its invisible connexion into the hidden recesses of Voldemort's mind. Harry was floating in a coracle, a large black cobra resting on his shoulders. He didn't know why he had the snake with him, but it felt familiar, as though it had always been there. They drifted in their small boat on a vast, stormy sea, filled with innumerable islands: some small and stony, others large and forbidding. On the edges of each island Harry could make out faint wisps of memory, and it took every ounce of self control Harry possessed to keep himself from exploring. He sensed that if once he lost sight of his purpose, he might never manage to get out of Voldemort's mind again.

His mission was clear and simple: discover a way to break through Voldemort's wards. Harry concentrated hard on finding them, but it was difficult for him to see through the stormy waves of the Dark Lord's mind. Lightning flashed all around him, and Harry sensed that the only reason he himself had not yet been struck was that somehow Voldemort's mental defences failed to perceive him as a threat. As it were, something about Harry made him belong there. Harry wondered if it had something to do with the snake.

'I need to find the wards to Riddle Manor,' Harry repeated under his breath in Parseltongue. 'I need to find the wards to Riddle Manor.'

Suddenly there was a flash, and Harry found himself very close to the shore of a large rock that burst majestically out of the sea. On the shore, he could see a dark-haired boy, just a few years older than himself, standing in the elegant dining room of an large manor house. Three adults were just sitting down to dinner when the boy drew his wand and murmured the Killing Curse. One after another, the adults dropped to the floor, dead. The boy smirked coldly.

Harry felt his coracle drifting closer and closer to the rock.

'The wards,' he thought in a panic. 'I need to find the wards.'

Another flash came, and Harry found himself standing on the shore of a heavily fortified island. An enormous castle rose up into the sky from foundations of solid stone. The wind and rain beat furiously against its walls, but its parapets stood in proud defiance of the elements. Harry thought the castle strongly resembled Hogwarts.

The front gate was guarded by terrible creatures in long black cloaks. A feeling of gloom and despair hung around them. Harry shivered.

'Dementors,' he moaned. He would have to find some other way inside the fortress.

He crawled up the rocks around to the back of the castle, barely keeping his grip on the slippery stones. Whether it took him hours or seconds, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that whilst he was climbing, he thought he'd never reach the end, but once he reached his destination, it seemed that it had taken him only the blinking of an eye. Harry shivered again. If he spent too long here, he felt sure he'd go mad.

On the other side of the castle, Harry found a small slope that led down to the dungeons. He tripped on a pebble, and skidded along the sharp rocks to the bottom, cutting and bruising himself along the way. He winced. For an illusion that was being projected by his and Riddle's mind, it was pretty painful.

At the bottom of the slope, Harry found a small wooden door in the wall. It was truly minuscule – it looked rather like something that had been designed for house elves to use. Harry reached for the handle, but the door refused to budge. He pulled and pulled, all with no effect. Finally, he stared at the door and narrowed his eyes.

'Open,' he hissed in Parseltongue. The snake around his shoulders hissed along with him, and, to Harry's relief, the tiny door opened. Harry crouched down and paused. He was certain he would be too big to fit through. The blood potion had given him Sirius's broad shoulders and solid build, and, unlike Sirius, Harry had never suffered the emaciating effects of Azkaban. To his surprise, however, as he approached the door, he realised that his shoulders were much narrower than usual, and he was a good bit shorter and thinner. He fit easily through the door and found himself in a stone corridor, on the other side of which hung an enormous antique mirror. Harry gasped when he saw his reflection, a reflection he hadn't seen for six years.

He looked just like James Potter, but with Lily's green eyes. He was much taller and stronger than he had been as a little kid – he didn't have that half-starved look – but he was a few inches shorter than he was used to. His chest and shoulders were narrower, which didn't particularly please him, but he noted with satisfaction that his stomach was a bit leaner. He wore glasses, and he had James's messy black hair.

Harry didn't understand how this could be. This was all an illusion, after all, a construct to help him navigate the Dark Lord's mind. There were no bodies here at all, only minds. Harry could only suppose that perhaps he was catching a glimpse of his own soul here, some indication that, underneath all the deception, he was still Harry James Potter.

The strangest thing about the reflected-Harry, however, was that, unlike the Harry of six years before, he had no lightning-shaped scar. His forehead was perfectly smooth – well, if one discounted a couple of spots. The snake, however, remained firmly coiled around his shoulders, though in the mirror it seemed to glow with an eerie black light. It reminded Harry of the aura that had briefly appeared around their fireplace when Aunt Cassie had activated the wards.

'The wards,' Harry whispered, immediately returning his focus to the task at hand. He tore his gaze away from the mirror with difficulty and began to walk down the corridor.

Just as in the real Hogwarts, the staircases shifted from place to place and doors seemed to appear and disappear at random. Only his single-minded determination to find the wards kept him from getting lost. He rose higher and higher, until, in what ought to have been the Charms classroom, he found what he was looking for.

The intensive study of warding had been a critical part of Harry's and Draco's home education, and Harry knew enough to appreciate the simple elegance of Voldemort's approach. There was nothing fancy about his wards: they were mostly Wilberforce Webs and Goethe Grids laid out in a Suleiman Square. A fifth-year could probably have taken down any one of them individually. Their ingenuity was to be found in the way Riddle had set them up to interact with each other. Every part of the system was linked inextricably to every other part, and in such a way as to create a rippling effect. If one ward fell, the release of power would only strengthen the next, which would feed back into yet another, which, when it reached a certain level, would trigger the original ward to reactivate, even stronger than before. These weren't the nasty sort of wards that would detain an intruder and slowly kill him over a period of several years, but Harry doubted that even Dumbledore would be able to bring them down. There were no holes in the system, and the ends were tied up in Riddle himself.

Harry was grateful that the wards were so simple – they required virtually no effort to maintain, and Voldemort clearly felt no need to pay them any mind once he had erected them. Otherwise, Harry highly doubted that he would have been able to find them so easily. He knew, however, that Voldemort's attention would shift very rapidly the moment Harry interfered. He had to act quickly and decisively, and hope that the others were in a position to seize the moment.

There was no way to untangle the wards or create a gap without alerting Voldemort. The wards were bound as tightly as the Gordian knot. That meant, of course, that Harry had to find a way to cut through them.

Harry reached out with his mind and grabbed hold of the wards. He summoned all his magic as though he were going to cast a very difficult curse, and then released it directly into the wards. The effect was instantaneous. The wards overloaded and the castle went pitch-black. Harry only had time to grin with satisfaction before the castle vanished and he found himself standing on the edge of a tall cliff, staring directly in the blazing red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

In their tunnel beneath Riddle Manor, Sirius, Abraxas and Remus felt the wards drop immediately.

'The ladies must have done it,' Abraxas observed proudly.

Remus nodded. 'Best move quick before Voldemort brings them back up.'

The three wizards turned on their heels and Apparated up into Riddle Manor. Sirius immediately set off running through the halls and looking for Narcissa. Abraxas and Remus followed close behind, their wands at the ready.

There were no Death Eaters left in the building, all of them having gone outside to hold off the onslaught of witches, and the rooms were all quite barren. The three wizards searched empty floor after empty floor until finally they heard voices at the end of the corridor. They crept closer under a Disillusionment Charm and saw Lucius pointing his wand at Narcissa, who was kneeling on the floor. Behind them, Quirrell seemed to be in some kind of trance.

'Remain perfectly still, Narcissa,' Lucius said coldly. 'The Dark Lord will no doubt wish to resume his interrogation presently.'

'What happened?' the blonde witch asked. 'He was talking normally until just a moment ago.'

'I do not know,' Lucius responded. 'He is likely reinforcing the wards. Perhaps the attackers have weakened them.'

Sirius lifted his Disillusionment Charm and came into view. Abraxas and Remus followed suit.

'You don't know how right you are, Lucius,' Sirius growled.

'Sirius!' Narcissa cried out with relief, but Lucius hit her with the Cruciatus Curse. As she screamed in pain, Sirius raised his own wand.

'_Stupefy!_' he shouted, sending a burst of red light at the Death Eater, who barely managed to leap out of the way before it could hit him. Sirius followed it up with an attempt to curse the entranced Dark Lord, but his spell only bounced off onto the walls. Voldemort, it seemed, was invulnerable.

Lucius fired off a Bone-Breaking Curse at his attacker. Sirius dodged it, but Abraxas was right behind him, and the old wizard was not so agile. He fell to the ground, his proud features contorted in pain. Lucius smirked.

'You have no idea how much satisfaction that gives me, _Father_,' he spat. Abraxas was in too much pain to give any more response than an angry glare.

'Get out of here, Dad,' Sirius told him sternly. The old wizard activated his emergency Portkey and vanished. A moment later, Lucius hit Sirius's upper arm with a Cutting Curse.

'It looks like I've drawn first blood, Black,' he taunted, and Sirius fired off a Blasting Curse in return. Whilst the two wizards were locked in combat, trading curses back and forth, Remus managed to slip over to Narcissa and hand her an emergency Portkey. She had just enough time before she vanished to hear Lucius roar ferociously as he aimed his wand at Remus:

'_Crucio!_'

* * *

In their own mental world, far away from the battle that raged outside, Harry and Voldemort stood facing each other on the edge of the cliff.

'It was very impressive of you to be able sneak through my defences, Mr Black,' Voldemort said with a sneer. 'Very _Slytherin_ of you.'

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. 'What can I say, Tom? I am the Heir of Slytherin.'

'So you keep claiming, Mr Black,' the Dark wizard replied. 'Or should I say, "Mr Potter"?'

'I suppose we have no more secrets from each other now, Tom.'

Voldemort's snake-like features contorted in fury. 'Stop calling me that, you insolent whelp!'

'It's your name, isn't it? Let's be honest with each other. You're Tom Riddle, and I'm Harry Potter.'

'Be silent,' Voldemort snapped. 'Now that I've found you, there is nothing you can do to keep me from destroying you.' He stepped forward and grabbed Harry's arm, only to leap back as both of them yelped in pain.

'What was that?' the Dark wizard demanded.

'How the hell should I know?' Harry retorted hotly.

Voldemort stared at the boy through narrow eyes, then raised his right hand.

'I may not know what magic you're using against me, Potter,' he said in a high voice, 'but I do know that we're in my mind. _I_ have the advantage here.'

He dropped his hand, and their surroundings changed. Suddenly they were moving through the streets of a quaint English village that felt vaguely familiar to Harry. They passed a church, and a graveyard.

'No,' Harry whispered as he realised where they were.

'Welcome home, Harry Potter,' Voldemort said cruelly. 'Enjoy the show. I, alas, have other things to do – beginning with killing off your pest of a godfather.'

'No, please,' Harry repeated, his voice broken.

'Things could have gone so well for you, had you only left well enough alone,' his enemy taunted. 'Foolish boy. You should have known better than to try to attack the mind of Lord Voldemort.'

Voldemort vanished, but Harry continued to be dragged irresistibly towards his family's house.

There was Uncle James – his real father, bravely and foolishly challenging Riddle without even a wand.

_It's him! Lily, take Harry and go!_

There was his mum, his real mum, standing in the way between him and death.

_Not Harry!_

Then came the blinding green light, and a horrible pain, and Harry found himself once more passing the church, once more being drawn inexorably into his worst nightmare.

* * *

Narcissa appeared in the drawing room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Abraxas had arrived moments before, and was already being taken by Kreacher and Clytemnestra up to a guest room.

'Mum!' Draco shouted, embracing his mother tightly. She winced slightly, but he didn't notice. 'You're safe! Where are Uncle Sirius and Professor Lupin?'

'They're still back with You-Know-Who, I expect,' she said sadly. 'They gave me an emergency Portkey so I could escape.'

Draco looked worried. 'But they don't have any more back-up, do they?'

Narcissa shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

The blond boy looked over at his cousin's unconscious form anxiously. 'Wake up, Aries,' he urged uselessly. 'We have to do something.'

Suddenly, Harry began to twitch violently and clutch at his forehead.

'Something's going wrong,' Draco said. 'Do something, Mum!'

Narcissa, however, was completely lost. 'I don't know what's going on, son. Why is Aries unconscious?'

'He has a connexion with Riddle,' Draco explained. 'He was trying to use it against him.'

Realisation dawned on the blonde witch's face.

'The wards came down just a few minutes before I left,' she said, 'and the Dark Lord went into some sort of trance. Could that have been Aries?'

'NO!' Harry shouted out, still unconscious. 'DAD!'

'I've got to do something,' Draco muttered.

'You don't have to do anything,' his mother said soothingly. 'Sirius and Remus will take care of everything. You're only a boy.'

'So is Aries, and he's fighting,' Draco retorted. 'I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here and do nothing.'

'Language, Draco,' his mother said firmly, but he pulled away from her and grabbed a piece of parchment off the desk.

'Sorry, Mum,' he said. 'But I've got to help.' He pointed his wand at the parchment. '_Portus._'

He vanished in a flash of light, and Narcissa cried out. She was left alone with her nephew, who seemed to be having some sort of fit. She sighed and decided to attempt to make herself useful. She called for a bowl of water and a washcloth, then sat next to the boy and began to wipe his burning face with the soothing cloth. She gasped when the saw the gash that had opened up on his forehead, a bloody cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.

* * *

Back at Riddle House, Remus and Sirius were locked in a battle for their lives with Lucius and the Voldemort-possessed Quirrell, and the tide had definitely turned against the old Marauders.

'Moony?' Sirius asked as he dodged a spurt of fire from Lucius's wand.

'Yeah, Padfoot?' Remus replied, Banishing a sofa at Quirrell, who simply caused it to explode into a hundred flaming pieces.

'You've been a good friend,' the Animagus replied, dodging the debris. 'I want you to take your Portkey and get out of here. I'll follow if I can, but if I don't...'

The werewolf snarled at his best mate. 'Shut up, you idiot!' he snapped. 'There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here with these two.'

Their conversation was cut off as Lucius blasted Sirius against the wall, and the dark-haired wizard fell limp to the floor.

_No! _Remus thought with despair, but couldn't check up on his friend at the moment, as he found himself facing a violent assault from Quirrell. The werewolf yelped as a Cutting Curse hit his lower leg, and fell to the floor. His opponent swept over with a cruel smile.

'Goodbye, werewolf,' he taunted, and levelled his wand.

'NO!' came the voice of a young boy, who barrelled into the room and threw himself at Quirrell.

_Aries?_ Remus thought, then gasped in surprise when he saw the boy's blond hair.

'Get off me, you brat,' Quirrell snarled, and grabbed Draco's arm in order to pull him off. He screamed out in pain as their skin touched. 'Not you too?' he spat in confusion. He raised his wand and aimed it at the boy, but Draco was quick on the uptake. He grabbed Quirrell's face with both of his hands, and the evil wizard began to scream as though he were being burnt. Quirrell collapsed lifelessly to the floor, and a black mist rose from his body, rushing straight towards Lucius. It entered into the blond wizard, and his eyes began to glow red.

'Foolish boy,' he cackled. 'It was time for me to change hosts anyway.' He sneered. 'Now you will pay for your interference, and at your father's own hand too. How appropriate. _Ava-'_

_'AVADA KEDAVRA!' _came Sirius's furious voice. Remus looked over to see his friend crouched on the floor, battered but very much alive, his wand aimed directly at Lucius's chest. The green light burst from the tip of his wand and hit Lucius full-on. The blond wizard looked a bit surprised as he crumpled to the ground, the black mist rising up from him and fleeing the building.

Draco sat on the floor, staring at his father's dead body in shock and terror. Sirius limped over and put an arm around his nephew. Draco jerked away.

'You killed him,' he said in a dull voice.

Sirius winced. 'Draco, I'm sorry,' he whispered.

The blond boy looked up at his uncle. 'He was going to kill me. I heard him begin the Killing Curse.'

Sirius nodded.

'You saved my life,' Draco said.

His uncle gave him a small smile. 'Of course I did. You're my favourite nephew.'

Draco shook his head sadly. 'No, I'm not.'

'What do you mean by that?' Sirius asked with a frown.

'Aries told me the truth,' the boy replied in a small voice. Sirius nodded, surprised, but hardly shocked. 'You're my mum's cousin, but you were never married to my...well, to Aunt Regina. You were never really my uncle.' Draco paused. 'And now you've killed my fa...him.'

Sirius looked the blond boy in the eyes. 'You've every right to be angry with me, Draco.'

'I know,' Draco said. His voice was strange, as though balancing on the border between breaking down in tears or erupting in angry shouts. 'And I should be, shouldn't I? But I'm not, at least not yet.' He looked away from his father's corpse and took a deep breath. 'We ought to get back to Grimmauld Place. Aries was having a fit when we left.'

'What? Why didn't you say something sooner?' Sirius asked anxiously.

Draco glared at him, and Sirius hung his head in shame. Of course the poor boy hadn't brought it up. Draco had just seen the man he trusted most murder his father. The fact that Sirius had only been acting to protect Draco only made it worse.

'Come on, you two,' Remus said in a gentle voice as he held out a Portkey. 'Let's go home.'


	40. Part II: Chapter 11

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers! I shall reply to the reviews as soon as I can. For the idea that Andromeda works as a Healer, I am indebted to the incomparable Fernwithy and her beautiful story, _Shifts_. I encourage you all to check it out! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 11

The house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place had turned into something of a hospital. Andromeda was a Healer by profession, and when she arrived back with the other witches from the attack on Riddle House, she immediately took charge of the wounded. Abraxas's broken bones were easy enough to mend, but Dora had fallen from her broomstick and needed to be sent to St Mungo's. Everyone else had escaped with cuts and bruises – the sorts of things one could heal with a flick of a wand. Everyone, that is, except for Harry.

Harry's fit had ceased as soon as Quirrell had been killed, but he stubbornly refused to regain consciousness. That made Sirius worry a great deal, but Andromeda told him that Harry was sleeping, and no doubt needed the rest. She was mostly concerned by the unusual scar on his forehead. It didn't respond to any of her treatments, and something about it seemed vaguely familiar. Eventually she recognised it, from a newspaper account she had read long before.

'Sirius,' she said sternly on the second day after the battle, 'I think there's something you need to tell us.'

'Whatever do you mean, Andromeda?' Sirius replied innocently.

The persistent witch was not fooled by her cousin's playacting. She knew him far too well.

'You know why Aries has this scar, don't you?' she pressed.

Sirius sighed and nodded. 'I might as well tell you all together,' he said.

He gathered the family into the dining room downstairs. Dora was still absent, but everyone else was there, and basically healthy, though Abraxas was using a cane. Remus sat next to Sirius to provide moral support. They all made the Unbreakable Vow, and Sirius began to speak.

'By now, several of you have noticed that Aries received a strange scar on his forehead during his most recent encounter with Tom Riddle,' he said. There were several nods. Sirius took a deep breath. 'What most of you don't know, however, is that this scar is not new. Aries actually received it during his first encounter with Riddle, some eleven years ago.'

Andromeda nodded smugly, but Irma looked confused.

'Eleven years ago?' she asked. 'But Aries was in France then. Why would the Dark Lord bother him there?'

Sirius shook his head. 'Aries was not born with the name "Aries Sirius Black",' he explained. 'He was originally called "Harry James Potter".'

There were gasps around the table from those who had not known the truth.

Narcissa frowned. 'The Boy-Who-Lived? But he died from dragon pox several years ago.'

'Just after Aries came to live with us,' Abraxas said, his brow furrowed darkly. 'I doubt that was a coincidence.'

'It wasn't,' Remus said. 'Dumbledore made the announcement after he discovered that Harry had been kidnapped from his Muggle relatives' home.'

'Muggle relatives?' Druella repeated, arching an eyebrow.

'Perhaps I should explain this part,' Clytemnestra interrupted. 'After the death of James and Lily Potter, Harry was supposed to be raised by Sirius. However, as you all know, Sirius was falsely accused of betraying them and sent off to Azkaban. Dumbledore placed Harry with Lily's Muggle sister and her family.'

'Muggle sister?' Abraxas repeated, his lips dry. 'Surely you meant to say "Squib".'

'Lily was a Muggleborn witch,' Sirius explained quickly. Abraxas nodded, but his expression darkened further.

'They treated the boy terribly,' Clytemnestra continued. 'They called him a freak because he was a wizard and kept him locked in a cupboard under the stairs.'

'That's horrible!' Melania exclaimed.

Cassiopeia sneered. 'What else can one expect from filthy Muggles?'

'Marius and I discovered the boy quite by accident,' Clytemnestra said. 'By a happy twist of fate, we were invited to dinner with the Muggles. Vernon Dursley was a business contact of Marius's. We found out about the boy and took him with us. We knew that Dumbledore would be looking for him and would try to send him back, so Marius commissioned a brewer to prepare a batch of the Sanguinis Impostor potion in order to disguise Harry. Sirius was in Azkaban, and Regina had just died, so we decided to say that he was their son.'

'A bit presumptuous, don't you think, to give someone a child without their permission?' Abraxas asked coldly.

A loud sigh came from the portrait over the fireplace. Regina Malfoy lay reclined on a low couch, eating a bunch of grapes.

'I did give my permission, Dad,' she said. 'Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra asked for it before giving Aries the potion.'

'You've no right to give permission,' Abraxas objected. 'You're only a portrait. Regina is dead.'

'Yes, I am,' Regina agreed. 'But I should have given permission, were I alive to do so, and you know it.'

Abraxas grumbled at that, but said nothing further.

'We obtained permission from the portraits of James, Lily and Regina,' Clytemnestra went on. 'We should have obtained permission from Sirius too, but...' Her voice trailed off.

'That was quite impossible given my whereabouts at the time,' Sirius finished.

She nodded. 'James's portrait assured us that you wouldn't mind, since you were the boy's godfather anyway.'

'And he was right,' Sirius said proudly. 'I am honoured beyond measure that Harry thinks of me as his dad.'

'The rest of the story you know,' Clytemnestra said. 'Cassiopeia found out at some point, and Sirius learned the truth after he was freed from prison. He agreed to keep the secret.'

'To be fair,' Cassiopeia inserted, 'he didn't much like the idea at first. He wanted to take Aries away to live somewhere else, but I managed to _persuade _him.'

Sirius snorted. 'You threatened to expose Harry and send me back to Azkaban if I didn't play along.'

Cassiopeia smirked at her great-nephew. 'It worked,' she said casually.

'I can't believe this,' Narcissa said, turning pink. 'I trusted you, Sirius! And poor Draco, he's thought all this time that Aries was his cousin.'

'Actually, Mum,' Draco interrupted. 'I already knew. Aries told me.'

'And you didn't see fit to inform me?' Abraxas shouted. He stood up quickly and knocked over his chair. 'I've heard enough, ___Black. _I hope you and your half-blood brat have had a good time making fools out of the rest of us. Congratulations. You've destroyed my family in the process.' He turned around and barged out of the room.

Narcissa stood up too, her eyes moist. She made some hasty excuses and ran upstairs. Draco gave Sirius an apologetic look before running after her.

'I'd better follow Abraxas and calm him down,' Clytemnestra said, and rose to leave.

'I doubt your brother will be very pleased to see you,' Cassiopeia observed.

The Squib smirked. 'No, I imagine not.' She walked out of the dining room.

After she had left, Sirius turned his attention to the rest of the family.

'Does anyone else want to yell at me?' he asked evenly.

'I think you've done a very good thing,' Andromeda said.

'Thank you,' Sirius replied.

'I must confess I'm a bit startled,' Melania said. 'But you're the head of the family, and Aries is such a sweet boy. I suppose it doesn't matter, so long as you're happy with the situation.'

'I always knew there was something off about the boy,' Druella said haughtily. 'A half-blood, really. How dare he presume to defile the House of Black?'

The witch yelped as a Stinging Hex hit her. Surprisingly, Irma was the one holding the wand.

'If he's Harry Potter, he's got more Black blood running through his veins than either of us has, Druella,' she pointed out. 'And he made Poll's last years very happy. I doubt my late husband would have been pleased to hear the news, but I can hardly blame the boy for that.' She looked over at her grandson. 'Or you, Sirius. It was the Squibs' fault, and...well...under the circumstances, who can blame them? Imagine, Cygnus Black's great-grandson forced to live with Muggles! Pollux would never have stood for that.'

'In any event, I don't believe Aries is actually a half-blood,' Cassiopeia said. 'I have come to the conclusion that Lily Evans was actually a pureblood witch who was kidnapped at birth. How else would little Aries be a Parselmouth?'

Druella turned pale. 'I hadn't considered that. So you mean...?'

'That's right,' Cassiopeia replied smugly. 'Lily Evans was Slytherin's Dark Heiress.'

Remus and Sirius exchanged amused glances, but no one else noticed.

Cassiopeia continued. 'Riddle knew this, of course, and that's why he tried to kill Harry Potter.' She cackled. 'But the half-blood bastard was no match for the boy's Dark power.' She glared at Druella. 'Just think, my dear. He managed to dismantle Riddle's wards without leaving Grimmauld Place. He invented a new and improved version of the Cruciatus Curse. What might he do to you if you get on his bad side?'

Druella giggled nervously. 'I've always been fond of Aries,' she said saccharinely. 'He's such a dear boy. He must take after the Mud-, er, Lily. I was always fond of her.'

Andromeda snorted. 'And just when did you meet her, Mother?'

'Oh, it wasn't a matter of _______meeting_, Andromeda dear,' Druella said with sickening sweetness. Sirius was reminded strongly of Bella. 'I think I saw her from a distance once or twice. But she was such a lovely witch – really just to see her was to love her.'

Sirius rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table. 'I think I'll go check on Narcissa.'

* * *

'Mum, you can't blame Aries for what happened,' Draco said. 'If it weren't for him, you might have been killed.'

'I know,' Narcissa said with a sigh. 'But if it weren't for him, I should never have lost Lucius or been kidnapped in the first place.'

'You can't think that way, Mum!' Draco insisted. 'Aries is my best friend.'

Narcissa looked at him sadly. 'But how can you be sure of that, dear? If he and Sirius were lying about so much, who knows what else they might have been lying about?'

'I understand, Mum,' Draco said quietly. I really do. I felt the same way when I learned the truth. I'm still confused about a lot of things. But I know I can trust Aries. He's my brother.'

'He's not even your cousin,' Narcissa said.

'He's my second cousin once removed!' Draco retorted hotly. 'Besides, after I learned the truth, we became blood brothers.'

His mother smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm glad you still have your friend, Draco,' she said. 'I don't really blame Aries. He was only a small child when it all happened.' She sighed. 'I do wish Sirius had told me.'

'He saved my life,' Draco said quietly. 'I don't know why. What am I to him?'

Sirius came into the room without knocking.

'I told you,' he said. 'You're my favourite nephew. I care about you just as much as I care about Aries.'

'Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's polite to knock?' Narcissa asked coldly.

Sirius shrugged. 'It's my house.' He looked down at Draco. 'Do you mind giving me and your mum just a moment, Draco?' he asked.

Draco got up and went, grasping his mother's hand briefly before leaving the room. Sirius shut the door.

'Cissy, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I would have told you, but I had to keep Aries' secret.'

'I understand,' Narcissa replied quietly. 'But I trusted you, Sirius. I told you all my darkest secrets, my fears. I thought we were being completely honest with one another.'

'We were,' Sirius protested.

Narcissa shook her head. 'We weren't. You were keeping a very large secret, one you shared with Aunt Cassie and Aunt Clytemnestra, but not with me.'

'I'm sorry,' Sirius repeated. 'How can I make it up to you?'

Narcissa snorted. 'Make it up to me? What makes you think you can do that?'

'Please, Narcissa,' Sirius said. 'There must be something I can do.'

Narcissa sighed. 'I don't know,' she said at length. 'But at least you can promise never to keep a secret from me again.'

Sirius hesitated. 'I want to promise that,' he said. 'But I can't. What if something comes up, and Aries' or Draco's lives are at stake?'

Surprisingly, Narcissa smiled. 'Thank you, Sirius,' she said.

'For what?' Sirius asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

'For taking me seriously,' she said. 'Lucius would have promised without a moment's hesitation, but I should have known he would do it again, if necessary. You were honest with me, and I appreciate that.'

'I'll always be honest with you,' Sirius said. 'I can promise you that much. If I can't tell you something for some reason, I'll tell you, but I shan't lie to you.'

Narcissa nodded. 'Thank you, Sirius,' she said. They sat quietly for a few minutes before Sirius spoke again.

'I'm worried about Draco,' he said. 'I really do love the boy, but he must be so angry with me. He's been so distant.'

'Draco likes to know where he stands with everyone in his life,' Narcissa explained. 'He wants people to fit in nice boxes.' She chuckled. 'He told me that he and Aries became blood brothers after he learned the truth.'

'Really? I didn't know that.'

Narcissa nodded. 'It's the sort of thing he would come up with. I'm sure he felt a bit lost once he found out that he and Aries weren't first cousins. Becoming blood brothers was his way of re-establishing their bond.' She paused. 'He's always had a special connexion with you. You've not just been his best friend's father, but his beloved uncle. That's gone now, and on top of it, you saved him from the man he was supposed to admire above all others. It's all very confusing for him. He needs to figure out how he's supposed to relate to you.'

'I'd do anything for you two, Cissy,' Sirius said.

'I know that,' Narcissa replied. 'And so does Draco. We just need a bit of time.'

* * *

Back at Malfoy Manor, Abraxas was pacing angrily about his drawing room, a glass of firewhisky in hand. Clytemnestra came through the fireplace.

'Go away,' Abraxas snapped at his sister. 'You're no longer welcome here.'

'I was born here,' Clytemnestra said coldly. 'I've as much right to be here as you have.'

'Filthy Squib,' Abraxas spat. 'How dare you betray me like this? Manipulating me into accepting that half-blood into my family – it's simply vile!'

'So you're going to do what you always do, are you?' his sister replied. 'Drive away all the people who care about you because they don't live up to your expectations?'

'Don't,' Abraxas began, but Clytemnestra cut him off.

'I've seen it happen time after time,' the Squib said. 'Let's start with Iphigenia, the lovely wife you neglected for the sake of your political ambitions.'

'I adored Iphigenia,' Abraxas snapped.

'I know that,' his sister said kindly. 'And so did she. But she also knew her place in your world – to bear your offspring and preside over glittering social events – and she fulfilled that function to the very end.'

Abraxas's eyes glistened. 'I didn't know she was ill,' he said quietly. 'I should never have asked her to put together that last ball if she'd told me.'

'And why didn't she tell you, Abraxas Hippocrates?' Clytemnestra demanded. 'Because you'd never taken the time to listen to her before.'

'I don't want to hear this,' her brother snapped. 'Least of all from you.'

'Fine,' she replied. 'Let's talk about Regina, your beautiful daughter and favourite child, whom you drove away from the family because she refused to support Tom Riddle.'

'I didn't want her to leave,' Abraxas protested. 'She could have stayed if only she'd have done as she was told.'

Clytemnestra scoffed at that. 'Regina was too much your daughter ever to do such a thing. You loved her and she loved you, but she had to die alone in France because of your overblown pride.'

'My what?'

'Don't act so offended, Abraxas. The whole world knows you're a pompous ass.' She paused. 'Then there's Lucius.'

'Don't you dare to mention him! It's your fault he's dead.'

'Is it?' Clytemnestra replied. 'Was I the one who ignored him all through his childhood, who never thought he quite measured up to my expectations? Was I the one who constantly belittled and criticised him, driving him to seek vengeance in the only way he knew?'

'Shut up!' Abraxas shouted, hurling his glass against the wall.

The Squib ignored him. 'And then there's poor Draco.'

'I've been an excellent grandfather to Draco.'

'You have,' Clytemnestra admitted. 'Ever since Aries came into our lives. Before then, as I understand it, you restricted yourself to buying Draco expensive presents and patting him on the head occasionally.'

'Lucius didn't want me to interfere,' Abraxas said weakly.

'And you would have allowed Draco to grow up into a clone of his father, had Aries not entered the picture.' Clytemnestra's voice grew gentler. 'He brought out the very best in you, didn't he? The only son of the daughter you'd lost, an eager, delightful child, in desperate need of affection. You were a wonderful grandfather to Aries.'

Abraxas said nothing.

'Then there's Sirius. The son you always wished you had. I've watched you two together: he's made you so very happy, and you've been good for him too. He didn't have the best relationship with his own father.'

Abraxas cracked a smile. 'No one had a good relationship with Orion, not even Orion.'

'If you want to be angry with me, go ahead,' his sister said. 'I lied to you. I tricked you. But don't you dare to blame Aries and Sirius for this. Neither one of them had any real choice in the matter, and they both love you.' Her expression softened. 'And you love them too.'

'I do,' Abraxas said. He looked completely broken. 'How can I ever trust them again?'

'Considering your little tirade back at Grimmauld Place, I think the question ought to be whether they will ever be able to trust you again. "Half-blood brat", Abraxas? Your only heir's closest friend?'

Her brother winced and collapsed in a chair. 'Good God, Clytemnestra. What have I done?'

His sister took his hand, and Abraxas did not resist.

'They'll forgive you,' she said.

'How can you be sure?' he asked.

'Because they love you,' she replied simply. 'They'll forgive you, just like you'll forgive them.'

Abraxas smiled at his sister. 'Thanks, Nestra,' he said. 'You're not all that bad for a Squib.'

Clytemnestra rolled her eyes. 'You're all right yourself,' she replied. 'For a Dark sorcerer, I mean.'


	41. Part II: Chapter 12

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers! One brief note concerning the word 'connexion'. I have received countless messages informing me that this word is spelt 'connection'. I aprreciate your vigilance, and your kindness in letting me know. However, if you would be so kind as to look it up (a simple Google search would suffice), you will learn that 'connexion' and 'connection' are equally acceptable spellings. I, myself, am rather fond of the older spelling, coming as it does from the Latin _connexio_. **

**Whilst I would never in a thousand lifetimes suggest such a thing, it is true that there is a simple solution to any lingering discomfort with my orthographical preferences: a 'connexion' drinking game. I am certain, given my propensity to use this word over and over again, that after only a few chapters, no one would care about the letter 'x' in the slightest!**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 12

Harry floated tranquilly in his coracle through a sea of Riddle's memories. He had felt the link snap suddenly whilst he was observing his parents' brutal murder for the tenth terrible time, and then experienced a violent jolt that he was certain could only mean that he had been hurled out of the Dark Lord's mind. But things were still not right. He could sense that he had been freed from Riddle's trap, but he couldn't understand why, if he was back in his own mind, he was still surrounded by all these memories. The world around him was just as it had been when he had first entered Riddle's mind, only now the sea was perfectly calm, without Voldemort's nasty mental defences, and the snake no longer sat perched atop Harry's shoulders. All the same, Harry knew the snake was not really gone. On the contrary, it was still close by. Very close by.

He tried to break the link repeatedly, but to no avail. Thus frustrated, he continued to sail along the tranquil sea and decided to take advantage of the opportunity to explore more of Riddle's memories. He watched how the twisted man had murdered his father and grandparents, not to mention anyone else who got in his way. He saw Riddle make his Horcruxes and hide them in various secret locations. He watched as Riddle explored the forbidden frontiers of magic and invented Dark spells that made one's blood curdle. He saw the establishment of the Death Eaters, and felt the thrill that ran up the half-blood bastard's spine as the pureblood scions of ancient lineages grovelled before him and kissed the fringes of his robes.

Harry saw power and knowledge, and knew instinctively that these were his for the taking – they had been gifted to him by virtue of his special insight into Riddle's mind. But, to his surprise, Harry found that the intoxicating vapours of Voldemort's vile secrets did not attract him in the least. He had just seen his parents murdered by that cruel monster, over and over again. He had seen the love and affection James and Lily had possessed towards him, and he had witnessed the selfless heroism of their sacrifice.

It was strange, considering that Harry had grown up with their portraits, but he felt almost as though he had seen his parents for the very first time as they really were. James was far more than a fun-loving prankster and a quick wit. Lily was more than just a kind lady who read stories. They were loving and dedicated parents who had given up their lives to protect him without even a second thought. Harry promised himself that one way or another he would avenge their deaths.

There was yet one question that still troubled Harry: why had Riddle wished to destroy him in the first place? He had only been a baby when the evil sorcerer had come after him. Why had Harry been deprived of growing up with the parents who had loved him so much?

Almost as soon as the questions came to Harry's mind, he found the coracle speeding along the waves to a rocky atoll some leagues distant. Of course, in the world of the mind, time and distance are irrelevant, and he reached the atoll in the twinkling of an eye. He disembarked from his boat, setting foot on the wet rocks, and found himself swept up into Riddle's memory.

The Dark Lord sat enthroned alone in a dimly lit room, contemplating his schemes for total domination of the wizarding world. The door opened, and Severus Snape entered. He came forward and knelt before his master. The future professor was quite young, but his hygiene was no better.

'Yes, Severus?'

Voldemort spoke in a light voice that Harry had come to know all too well. He was in a tricky mood. If Snape's news pleased him, the Death Eater would be greatly rewarded; if not, the young man would perish. Harry could see from Snape's trembling demeanour that he understood this perfectly.

'M-my lord,' the young wizard stammered. 'I was in the Hog's Head, spying on Dumbledore, when I overheard a prophecy.'

This piqued Voldemort's interest. 'A prophecy, you say? And how does this oracle concern me?' He raised his wand and pointed it at Snape. '_Legilimens!_'

The scene changed, and Harry could see Snape sitting outside a heavy wooden door, listening closely at the keyhole as Dumbledore interviewed a rather barmy-sounding witch – whom Harry thought sounded quite tipsy, to be honest. Dumbledore seemed to be making a concerted effort to refuse her politely, when her voice changed, growing deeper and harsher, and she began to speak:

'_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..._'

There was more, but Harry couldn't hear it, as Snape was apprehended by the owner of the pub and tossed out.

There was another shift, and Snape once again stood before Voldemort. It seemed several days had passed. The Death Eater looked, if possible, even worse than he had before.

'Are you certain, my lord?' he asked timidly.

'I'm afraid so, Severus,' Voldemort drawled. 'There is no doubt in my mind that the child of James and Lily Potter is the child referred to in the prophecy. They will be killed, and Lord Voldemort will reign supreme forever.' He smirked at his Death Eater. 'Why so glum, Severus? I should think you would be happy to hear the news. Your long-standing enmity with James Potter is known even to myself.'

'I'd like nothing more than to see that arrogant fool get what he deserves,' Snape spat. 'But Lily...' He paused. 'I've always...wanted her.'

'The Mudblood?' Voldemort retorted. 'Surely you can find a more worthy candidate for your...affections?'

'I've always wanted her,' Snape repeated, his voice cracking. 'But Potter...he took her from me. My lord, I beg you, kill Potter and the child, but leave me Lily.'

Voldemort paused for a long moment, then nodded graciously.

'I shall grant you this boon, Severus,' he said. 'I shall kill James Potter and his child, and then I shall give you the Mudblood to make use of as you will.'

'Th-thank you, my lord,' Snape whispered.

'Lord Voldemort rewards his faithful followers, Severus,' his master replied. 'You may go.'

The memories faded, and Harry once more found himself standing on the rocky island. He felt terribly sick. Voldemort had come after him because of that prophecy, and _Snivellus_ Snape had been the traitorous rat who passed along the information. Harry took a deep breath. At least he now knew his real purpose. This was the reason he had been given Parseltongue, this was the reason for his unique insight into Voldemort's mind. He was not destined to be the next Dark Lord after all, but rather to destroy the last one. Harry's eyes glinted angrily. That was one burden he would take up with pleasure.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was lying atop his bed in Regulus's old room. He sat up and stretched his arms. He felt remarkably well-rested. At his feet, an enormous black dog lay lengthwise across the bed. Harry smirked, and looked around for his wand. It was lying beside the lamp on the side table. He reached over quietly and snatched it up before turning it on the dog.

'_Aguamenti_,' he whispered, and water spurted out of the tip of his wand, splashing into the dog's face.

Sirius jumped up with a start. He looked at Harry reproachfully for a moment, then a doggy grin spread across his face. He transformed and grabbed Harry in a fierce hug.

'Harry, you're awake!' he exclaimed. 'Thank God. Andromeda said you were just sleeping and needed the rest, but I was scared you mightn't wake up.'

'How long was I out, Dad?' Harry asked.

'Three days,' Sirius said.

Harry grinned mischievously. 'At least it wasn't three weeks.'

'Honestly, Harry,' Sirius said, shaking his head. 'This is starting to turn into a bad habit. Can't you manage through one school year without falling unconscious or having to be pulled out and taken home?'

'What can I say?' Harry replied cheekily. 'I really don't like exams.'

Sirius let out a short, bark-like laugh. 'Well, you'll have to take them this year. You and Draco are going back to school on Monday.'

'What's the point?' Harry asked, rolling his eyes. 'We've only got a few weeks left.'

'True,' Sirius said with a smile. 'But I've received an owl from Oliver Wood, threatening me with bodily harm if you're not there to play for the last Quidditch game.'

Harry laughed. 'You could take him.' He paused, and looked up at Sirius anxiously. 'I brought down Riddle's wards, and I sensed that he was attacked. I presume we won?'

Sirius nodded and ruffled Harry's hair. 'That's right, thanks to you. We got Cissy out and killed Lucius and Quirrell. I understand that Aunt Cassie and her crew completely slaughtered the Death Eaters outside the house.'

'Lucius is dead?' Harry couldn't believe it. 'Poor Draco.'

Sirius grimaced. 'It's actually even worse than that,' he said. 'Draco made a Portkey and came over to help. Lucius was possessed by Riddle and nearly killed Draco before I stepped in.'

'That's awful,' Harry said quietly. 'He and Narcissa must be having a hard time.'

'I'd say so,' Sirius said nonchalantly, but Harry could see the worry in his eyes. 'There's more too.' He Conjured a handheld mirror and held it up for Harry to see. The boy gasped at the sight of the angry red scar on his forehead. His hand shot up instantly to feel it.

'How did this happen?' he asked.

'I don't know,' Sirius replied. 'It was like that when we got back from the rescue mission. It must have had something to do with your spending all that time in Riddle's mind.' He frowned. 'Do you want to tell me what happened?'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Well, I slipped into Riddle's mind and found the wards. I disabled them, but Riddle found out at once. He trapped me in a repeating memory.' He looked down at the bed, tracing an interesting pattern on the bedcovers with his finger. 'I was in Godric's Hollow.'

'Merlin, Harry,' Sirius breathed, and held Harry close. 'I'm so sorry. I take it Riddle knows the truth now?'

Harry nodded. 'I watched them die ten times,' he said dully. 'I couldn't do anything to fix it. Then it stopped suddenly, and I was thrown out of the memory. That must have been when you killed Riddle's host.'

'But why didn't you wake up then?' Sirius asked. 'Have you just been exhausted?'

'I don't think that's it,' Harry said hesitantly. 'I've spent all this time floating around in Riddle's memories.'

Sirius was stunned.

'What? But I thought you said the link broke.'

'It did,' Harry replied. 'Somehow I was out of his mind but still had access to his memories. I've learnt so much. I know where he hid the Horcruxes.' His face darkened. 'I also found out why Voldemort came after me that night.'

Sirius nodded. 'The prophecy.'

Harry's eyes went very wide. 'You knew? All this time?'

'Sorry.' Sirius winced. 'I don't know any of the details. I only know that there was a prophecy that someone would be born with the power to defeat Voldemort, and that Dumbledore thought you might have been the one.'

'I am the one,' Harry said resolutely. 'Riddle was sure of it. That's why he came after me that night. That's why he killed James and Lily.' He frowned. 'And guess who told Riddle about the prophecy?'

'Who?' Sirius asked curiously. 'Was it Wormtail?'

'No,' Harry growled. 'It was Snivellus.'

'SNAPE?' Sirius was livid. He looked ready to Floo to Hogwarts and kill the lousy Death Eater that very moment.

Harry nodded. 'He was spying on Dumbledore, and came to tell Riddle everything he learned.' His eyes glinted dangerously. 'Then he asked Riddle to kill me and James but turn Lily over to him.'

'But why would he do that?' Sirius asked.

'He _wanted_ her,' Harry replied coldly.

'That disgusting, no-good, vile excuse for a wizard,' Sirius snarled. 'I'll destroy him if it's the last thing I do.' He gently squeezed Harry's hand. 'I'm sorry you had to go through all that.'

Harry shrugged. 'At least now I know the truth. I'm the one destined to defeat Voldemort. That's why I have Parseltongue and all these special powers – so I can use them to avenge my parents.'

He tried to get out of bed, but Sirius stopped him.

'Just where do you think you're going, young man?' he asked wryly.

'I'm hungry,' Harry said. 'I thought I'd get some breakfast.'

'We'll have Kreacher bring you something. You should stay in bed.'

Harry groaned. 'Come on, Dad,' he said. 'I'm feeling fine.' He glanced in the mirror. 'Though I suppose we ought to find a way to cover this scar up before anyone sees it.'

'Actually, Harry,' Sirius said hesitantly, 'the family already know.'

'All of them?'

Sirius nodded. 'Andromeda saw the scar and figured it out. I had to tell them. Don't worry, though. They all took the Unbreakable Vow not to reveal the truth.'

'How did they take it?' Harry asked.

'About as well as could be expected,' Sirius said.

Harry's face fell. 'That bad?'

'Don't worry, Harry,' his dad said comfortingly. 'I'm certain they'll all come around eventually. Just be your same old charming self, and they'll get over it.'

He clapped Harry's back and they headed downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

That same afternoon, Abraxas called Sirius over to Malfoy Manor for a talk. Sirius wasn't sure what the old man wanted to say, but Clytemnestra encouraged him to go, though Sirius would rather have spent the time with Harry. He arrived promptly at three and Dobby led him into Abraxas's study. He sat down in his favourite chair, and Abraxas offered him tea.

'Good afternoon, Sirius,' Abraxas said. 'We have much to discuss.'

'Indeed we have, Mr Malfoy,' Sirius said coldly.

Abraxas winced.

'In the first place,' he said gruffly, 'I want to express my regret over the way I acted yesterday. I was quite surprised, and in my shock may have said some...inappropriate things.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

'I have thought it over,' Abraxas went on, 'and I have decided that I shall forgive you and Aries for your deception. I believe you meant well, and though you ought to have told us sooner, I suppose we ought to be grateful that you told us when you did.'

'Thank you, Mr Malfoy,' Sirius replied. 'I am very sorry that we've found ourselves in this situation. I never wanted to lie to you.'

'I understand that, Sirius.'

'My primary concern is that Aries not lose his grandfather,' Sirius continued. 'He cares about you very much, and he has lost far too many people that he cares about.'

'As have I, my boy,' Abraxas said quietly, but Sirius didn't hear him.

'I understand that our own friendship may have been irreparably damaged,' he went on, 'but I do hope that you and Aries will continue to be close.'

'So do I, Sirius,' Abraxas said. 'I likewise hope that our own friendship may not be so utterly broken as you seem to think. I should like very much for things to continue as they were.'

Sirius smiled. 'So should I, Mr Malfoy.'

'Please, Sirius,' the old wizard replied. 'Call me...Abraxas.'

'As you wish,' Sirius said, ignoring the moisture in his eyes.

Abraxas set down his tea. 'Well, now that's settled, we have important matters to discuss, do we not? Riddle may have been temporarily defeated, but his Horcruxes remain.'

Sirius told Abraxas about Harry's visions, and about the prophecy.

'I see,' Abraxas replied ruminatively when he had finished. 'It would seem young Aries is indeed destined for great things. We shall have to do everything we can to help him along the way. After the term is finished, I think we should begin our search for the Horcruxes.'

Sirius nodded. 'I agree. Aries and Draco should also continue their training. If Aries is going to face Riddle, you know Draco will be there at his side, and I don't want either of them to be caught unprepared.'

Abraxas coughed. 'Speaking of that, don't you think it would be right, since Draco is so devoted to Aries, to do something to make their relationship official?'

'I understand they've already done that on their own,' Sirius said with a chuckle. 'They became blood brothers after Draco learned the truth.'

Abraxas nodded approvingly. 'That's good news. Blood brotherhood is very powerful magic indeed.' He paused. 'However, Sirius, I was thinking of something more...legal.'

Sirius furrowed his brow. 'What do you mean?'

'Draco needs a father, Sirius,' Abraxas replied. 'As much as I care about the boy, I have learnt that I am constitutionally incapable of filling that role in his life. You, however, have proven yourself to be an excellent father.' He paused. 'I think you should marry Narcissa.'

Sirius spurted tea all over his robes. 'I beg your pardon?'

'It makes perfect sense, Sirius.' The older wizard casually bit into a biscuit. 'Draco looks up to you, he always has done. And you've grown quite close to Narcissa.'

'I killed Lucius!'

'Exactly,' Abraxas said sombrely. 'Therefore it is your responsibility to take care of his widow and orphan. Where's your Gryffindor chivalry?'

'It's not that,' Sirius protested. 'I'll take care of them both to my dying day.'

'Then why won't you give them some legal assurance of that?'

Sirius sputtered for a bit. 'I think Draco's angry with me,' he said eventually.

'I think Draco is confused,' Abraxas replied. 'He looks up to you almost as a father, but not only are you the one who deprived him of his actual father, you are a more distant relation than he had previously believed - only his mother's cousin.'

'Precisely,' Sirius said, as if that settled everything. 'I'm Narcissa's cousin. We can't possibly get married.'

Abraxas looked at him in amusement. 'What was your mother's maiden name, Mr Black?'

'That's beside the point!'

'I think not,' Abraxas replied with a chuckle. 'You will be continuing in a fine family tradition. Besides, if it was good enough for Queen Victoria...'

'She was a Muggle,' Sirius grumbled.

'And you're a pureblood wizard, so you have even less reason to object.' Abraxas looked triumphant. 'Marry Narcissa and adopt Draco. Narcissa's position will be legally secure, and Draco will have a father once again. You know it's a marvellous idea.'

Sirius hesitated. He had to admit that the idea had its merits, and he was very fond of both Cissy and Draco.

'Let me talk to Cissy and see what she thinks,' he said with a sigh.


	42. Part II: Chapter 13

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my loyal readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoy ****the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 13

The next Monday morning, Harry woke much earlier than usual, feeling exceptionally well-rested and full of energy. He summoned Kreacher to draw him a bath, and allowed himself to linger in the hot water a bit longer than he ought to have done. Once clean and dry, he dressed himself in his school robes and set about hiding his scar. Cassiopeia had shown him a few semi-permanent cosmetic charms: they were hardly powerful enough to deceive the likes of Dumbledore or Voldemort, but, seeing as both of his principal adversaries already knew the truth about his identity, Harry thought they would do very nicely. As extra reinforcement, he cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on his forehead, then made his way downstairs.

Draco was already sitting at the table when Harry came into the breakfast room. There were dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, and Draco, who was not usually shy about his meals, was only nibbling at a piece of toast. Harry sat across from him and piled several rashers of bacon, a few heaping spoonfuls of scrambled eggs, a couple of tomatoes and a few slices of black pudding onto his plate. Kreacher poured him a cup of tea and a tall glass of icy-cold pumpkin juice.

Draco arched an eyebrow and smirked faintly.

'Hungry?' he asked wryly.

Harry's mouth was already full, so he could only shrug in reply. Draco snorted, and resumed picking at his toast. Sirius shuffled in, still wearing his bathrobe and looking utterly exhausted.

'Morning,' he mumbled, and sat down at the table.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs. 'Good morning, Dad,' he said. Draco said nothing, but kept staring at his toast.

Sirius yawned widely as he accepted a cup of very strong tea from Kreacher. He drank it in silence, then stood up and stretched.

'It's time for you two to be off to school,' he announced.

Draco nodded and left the table, but Harry grabbed another handful of bacon before he got up. Sirius laughed and ruffled the boy's hair.

'It's nice to see your appetite's returned,' he said.

'What can I say?' Harry replied as he walked into the drawing room. 'I'm a growing boy, and I didn't eat much last week.'

Narcissa was waiting for them in the drawing room. She and Sirius gave both boys hugs – though Draco responded a bit stiffly to Sirius – and the boys Flooed to Remus's office.

* * *

After the tumultuous events of the previous days, Harry and Draco both found the unvarying school routine to be unbelievably dull. Neither one was much in the mood to be playing pranks, and even Quidditch seemed less important in the aftermath of the battle. The boys focussed their energies on their extracurricular research and training, both with Remus and on their own. Harry spent a great deal of time practising the various new spells he had learnt from Voldemort's memories, as well as demonstrating them for Draco.

'I don't know if I feel comfortable using things you've learnt from Riddle,' Draco said hesitantly a couple of days after they returned.

'These spells aren't even special magic,' Harry pointed out. 'They're just very powerful battle spells. How are we going to defeat Riddle if we don't use every advantage we've got?'

'You have a point there, ' Draco admitted. 'But let's not turn into Dark Lords in the process.'

Harry laughed. 'I don't think you're in any danger of that, Draco.'

'I'm not the one I'm worried about,' his blood brother replied with a frown.

'I'm not going to become like Riddle, Draco,' Harry said coldly. 'I just watched him murder my parents ten times. I'm going to destroy him.'

'And I'll help you,' Draco promised. 'I have my own good reasons for hating Riddle.'

Harry smiled. 'Besides, I can't possibly imagine exchanging my fantastic good looks for red eyes and a snake face.'

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand. 'All right. Let's get on with business.'

They started with a variation of Fiendfyre Voldemort had invented for use in combat. It was just as deadly, but far easier to manipulate. More importantly, unlike Fiendfyre it had no life of its own, instead depending totally on the ongoing will of the wizard who created it. This made it far less likely that the wizard would lose control of it and end up destroying his own allies.

Harry had no problems conjuring the fire. He remembered how Voldemort had invented it, after all, and when he concentrated on it, there was a part of him that felt almost as if he had done it before. Draco had a rather more difficult time of it, but after a few days he had also managed to produce it. Controlling the flames, however, was another question, and Draco scorched the walls of several abandoned classrooms before he finally mastered the spell.

Remus used his lessons with the boys to teach them basic combat strategies. Harry found these incrediblyuseful, especially since there had been very little in Voldemort's memories that could help with this aspect of duelling. The Dark Lord's strategy tended to rely on his sheer superiority to overwhelm his opponents, and had developed a number of successful escape strategies as backup, which he was very quick to use the moment things started to look bad for him in a duel. He was not at all the type to persevere once the tide had turned.

Remus, however, had a very different philosophy of duelling. It wasn't as flashy as Voldemort's approach – or even Sirius's – but Harry found it to be highly effective. It was understated, and concentrated on using one's opponent's own weaknesses against him.

'Never use a complicated spell when a simple one will do,' Remus explained. 'Think of your "God Save The Queen" prank in the corridor. None of those spells was beyond third-year. It was the way you wove them together that made the prank so resistant to everyone's attempts to Vanish it.'

Draco looked confused. 'Once you figured it out, you were able to undo it in a second.'

'But it took me a good while to learn how it worked,' Remus replied. 'In a duel, your adversary won't have time to sit back and analyse your strategy.'

Draco frowned. He was clearly still sceptical. 'I don't get it,' he said. 'How can any amount of strategy overcome a massively more powerful opponent?'

'How about a demonstration, then?' Remus suggested. 'Aries, you and I will duel. I don't want you to hold back. Use your Parseltongue, unleash the full force of the Dark Lord's awesome power on me.'

Harry looked at the Transfiguration master in shock.

'How did you know about all that?' he asked.

'Padfoot tells me everything,' Remus said dismissively. 'And I've seen what's left of the classrooms after you and Draco have your "training" sessions.'

'Are you sure you want me to do this?' Harry asked. He didn't want to hurt Remus.

'Absolutely,' Remus said. 'Do your worst.'

Harry and Remus bowed to each other, and Harry decided to start off easy. He didn't really believe that the werewolf could withstand a fully-fledged assault.

'_Osteolyso,_' he muttered, but Remus easily blocked it with a simple Shield Charm.

'Come on, Aries,' he taunted. 'Is that the best the Heir of Slytherin can do?'

Harry narrowed his eyes and fired off a Blasting Curse. Remus dodged it, but Harry followed it up closely with a blast of fire, which managed to singe the edges of his teacher's robes.

'Now it's my turn,' the werewolf said with a glint in his eye. He Transfigured the nearby desks into angry hippogriffs. Harry growled.

'_INIMICAPYRO!'_ he shouted, and bursts of flame shot of his wand and consumed the artificial hippogriffs. He blasted one after another, and then was shocked as his wand flew out of his hand into Remus's. The werewolf changed the remaining hippogriffs back into desks and grinned at Harry.

'Good old _Expelliarmus_,' he said. 'Caught you completely by surprise.'

Harry grinned back.

'Let's try that again,' he said eagerly.

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, Narcissa was sitting in the garden and sipping a glass of sherry. Sirius came out and joined her, carrying a bouquet of daffodils.

'Are those for me, Sirius?' she asked, a wry smile on her face.

'Who else?' he replied. 'They're your flower, after all.'

'They're lovely,' the blonde witch said.

'Not as nice as the ones I was bringing to you the day you disappeared,' Sirius said glumly. 'But I thought you'd appreciate the gesture.'

Narcissa took the flowers and Conjured a vase for them.

'I do,' she said. 'Thank you very much.'

They sat quietly for a few moments before Sirius spoke up.

'I have something to discuss with you,' he said hesitantly. 'I've been thinking about how best to watch out for you and Draco. You know I care about you both very much.'

Narcissa nodded.

'Well, Abraxas suggested that perhaps we should get married,' Sirius said in a quiet voice. 'That way Draco could have a father, and I'd be able to look after you. You're in a pretty precarious position right now, being the widow of a man who was cast out of his own family. You don't really have a legal right to much of anything except your marriage portion. This way you and Draco would be taken care of, no matter what happens.'

His cousin giggled. 'This certainly is a change, Sirius Black,' she said. 'Aunt Walburga would be so happy. Don't you remember the second Christmas after you started Hogwarts?'

Sirius winced. 'I might have overreacted slightly,' he admitted. 'Though to be fair, I had just turned thirteen, and it's more than a bit scary to have your mother threaten to marry you off to your much older cousin.'

Narcissa swatted at him playfully, and he dodged the blow.

'You were very fortunate my father had already consented to Lucius's proposal,' she said in amusement. 'Though I wasn't much interested in you at the time, either. I was a beautiful young witch, after all, just come into her prime, and you were only a mischievous little Gryffindor boy. Who would have thought then that you would propose to me some twenty years later?'

'Ironic, isn't it?' Sirius said with a chuckle. 'Of course, this would be a marriage of convenience. I shouldn't expect anything from you in _that_ way.' He blushed, which Narcissa found highly amusing. She would have thought that nothing could embarrass Sirius Black. 'You really shouldn't expect anything from me, either,' he said quietly. 'Ever since Azkaban...'

Narcissa lay a finger across his lips. 'Not one more word, Sirius,' she said. 'I can't think of anyone with whom I should be more delighted to enter into a marriage of convenience. I'm pleased as punch that you would go along with such a scheme, both for myself and for Draco.'

Sirius smiled at her. 'You're not offended that Abraxas was the one to suggest it, or angry that I couldn't be more romantic about the whole thing?'

'Offended? Angry?' Narcissa rolled her eyes. 'I've been worried sick about all these things for several months now, Sirius. I'm basically living off of charity from you and Abraxas, and we only have a gentleman's agreement from Abraxas that Draco will be the heir. You've presented a very tidy solution to my dilemma, one that doesn't require me to change my lifestyle or social circle in the least, nor to go through the agony of getting used to a new family.' She smiled delicately. 'Furthermore, I've discovered over the past couple of years that I actually quite enjoy your company, so our marriage of convenience would hardly be a great burden. Thank you, Sirius. I should be delighted to marry you.'

Sirius perked up. 'Well, that's settled then.'

Narcissa laughed. 'How on earth did you ever acquire your reputation as a ladies' man, Sirius?' she asked.

'I'll have you know that I can be very suave and charming, Narcissa,' her new fiancé retorted huffily. 'But that's loads more difficult when one puts oneself in a vulnerable position.'

'Vulnerable?'

'You could have said "no", and I should have been mortally embarrassed,' Sirius replied. He paused. 'How do you think Draco will respond to the idea?'

'I actually think he'll be quite pleased,' Narcissa said. 'He'll finally have a father who's worthy of the title.'

'I hope you're right,' Sirius muttered.

'What about Aries?' Narcissa asked. 'Do you think he'll like the idea of having a new mother?'

Sirius looked utterly gobsmacked. 'Merlin, I never even thought about that part,' he said. 'I'm sure he'll be fine with it. He's never really had a mother that he can remember.'

'We'll have to arrange for a solicitor to draw up all the details of the wedding contract,' Narcissa pointed out. 'We'll also want to clarify with Abraxas exactly what the terms of Draco's inheritance will be.'

Sirius laughed. 'I oughtn't to have worried about romance with you at all,' he teased. 'You're one pragmatic witch.'

Narcissa smirked. 'Of course, my dear. I'm a Slytherin.'

* * *

Severus Snape strode magnificently through the corridor, scattering idiotic students left and right. There were days – most every day, really – when he fervently regretted ever having become a schoolmaster. His vast knowledge of his subject aside, he was most ill-suited by both inclination and temperament to teach children. He absolutely _loathed_ the moronic little creatures.

Some, of course, were worse than others. He sighed, seeing one such monster come strutting by, looking for all the world like his arrogant, conceited father. The Black brat's bright blue eyes narrowed when he saw Severus.

'Hello, _Snivellus_,' he growled.

Severus rolled his eyes inwardly. The foolish Gryffindors still thought that their childish taunts could affect him. He had become immune to them long ago.

'Twenty points from Gryffindor for your disrespect, Black,' he said silkily, in his mind fantasising about a hundred different ways he could torture the brat's father. He felt a rush of pleasure at the idea, and curled his lip cruelly.

The Black brat glared back at him, and Severus could have sworn he saw a red glint appear momentarily in the boy's eye. Black hissed below his breath, and a sudden pain ripped through Severus's left forearm.

_The Dark Mark_, he thought in horror. He kept his expression firmly under control, however. Only a wince betrayed the immense agony he felt. He grabbed the Black brat by the shoulder and dragged him into an empty classroom before slamming the door shut.

'Do you care to explain yourself, Mr Black?' he demanded.

'I don't see why I should have to explain myself to a filthy Death Eater like you,' Black replied quietly. He hissed again, and this time Severus fell to his knees. The Dark Lord had tied all manner of unique tortures into the Dark Mark. In fact, he often boasted that he could kill a Death Eater without even being in his physical proximity. Severus had no idea how this boy could have learnt such Dark secrets.

'I should like very much to kill you right now, Snivellus,' Black continued. 'But I can't deprive my father of the pleasure. He has very special plans for you.' He snarled. 'If you thought he hated you before, just imagine how much he hates you now that he knows that you were the one who told Voldemort about that wretched prophecy.'

'How...?' Severus began, but was cut off by another burst of pain. The wizard snarled at his tormentor in undisguised hatred.

'As if that weren't bad enough,' Black went on, his voice frighteningly cold, 'you sent Voldemort after James and Harry Potter, willing to trade their lives so long as your master gave you Lily for your own twisted pleasure.'

'How dare you?' Severus spat. This insolent little horror could never possibly understand the purity of the love he had felt for Lily, the agony he had suffered after her death, the lengths to which he would have gone to keep her safe. Black sullied her name by speaking it.

The boy hissed again, and Severus's whole left side felt as though it had been lit on fire. Black turned on his heel and left the classroom without giving his teacher a second look. Severus waited to be sure he was gone before rushing back to his dungeons, doing his best to ignore the pain. It would pass eventually, he knew, as soon as the boy was distracted. It concerned him immensely, however, that the spoilt brat could have learnt the terrible secrets of the Dark Mark. This was hardly the first sign of Black's propensity towards the Dark Arts he had noticed, though it was by far the most troubling. So far as Severus knew, only the Dark Lord had the power to control the Dark Mark.

One thing, however, about the whole incident confused him more than anything else. If Sirius Black had truly been the one to betray the Potters to the Dark Lord, then why should he be so angry at Severus for doing the same thing? Severus thought it highly unlikely that Black would have hidden his true feelings on the matter from his son, all the more so since the boy appeared to be some sort of Dark prodigy. On the other hand, if Black were truly innocent of betrayal, and had somehow learnt of Severus's own responsibility in the matter... The Potions master's already pale skin turned even whiter. Black would certainly kill him without a second thought.

Even an hour before, Severus would never have doubted his ability to vanquish his old nemesis in a duel, but if the boy had learnt how to manipulate the powers of the Dark Mark... Severus scowled. He didn't stand a chance.

The burning in his arm finally subsided, and Severus took out a quill and ink. He dashed off a quick note to McGonagall before packing his trunks with a flick of his wand and vacating the premises as expeditiously as possible, mildly surprised at the light feeling in his chest. The day he had dreamt of for so many years had finally come. His days at Hogwarts were over.

_At last_, he thought with relief. _Now, how do I get to the Flamel house?  
_


	43. Part II: Chapter 14

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoy ****the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 14

Two days before the end of term, Daphne plucked up her courage and resolved to seek out Aries Black. Ever since he returned from his mysterious disappearance several weeks before, he had seemed to her to be strangely distant. Not only had their cooking lessons not continued, but he hadn't even seemed to notice her in the library or in the corridors.

'You must have done something to upset him,' Pansy had told her, that maddening 'I-told-you-so' look in her eyes. 'I'd guess you weren't giving him enough compliments. Flattery is very important with boys.'

Daphne had scoffed at that notion. 'Aries Black is the wealthiest, most pureblooded, smartest and best-looking boy in all of Hogwarts,' she had replied. 'Why would he need any compliments from me?'

All Pansy had done was smirk in response. 'You've got it bad, haven't you?'

Daphne had given her cousin an annoyed glare and stormed out of the Slytherin Common Room in a huff, deciding to walk directly to the library and figure out what was going on. It was a Wednesday evening, and she had observed that Aries tended to spend his Wednesday evenings studying. Of course, exams were now over, so it was perfectly possible that Aries would be taking the evening off, perhaps flying a bit, but she thought it was a good place to start. Besides, she generally did her best to avoid the Gryffindor Common Room altogether. The last time she had sought Aries out in the lions' den, Ron Weasley had hexed her for her trouble.

Daphne willed herself to ignore the horrible churning in her stomach. She had always dreaded direct confrontation, and was willing to go through nearly any amount of scheming and plotting in order to avoid it. That was why the Hat had put her in Slytherin, after all. That, and her excellent breeding, of course. Her family might have only come into money a couple of generations before, but their pureblood lineage stretched back at least ten generations on all sides.

A horrible thought suddenly crossed Daphne's mind. Might _that_ be why Aries had been avoiding her? Was she insufficiently pureblooded for him?

Everyone knew the Black family motto: _Toujours Pur_. They were one of only a select group of families that could trace their fully magical heritage back into the mythic mists of time. It was generally accepted that Betelgeuse the Black had been an adversary of Merlin – though the Blacks themselves claimed that their illustrious ancestor had been Merlin's teacher and mentor. The Malfoys did not stretch back quite as far, having only come to England at the time of the Norman Conquest, but Sir Foulques Malefoy had been the court wizard of William the Conqueror, best known for smiting the Saxons with a wide array of unsavoury curses.

And the Greengrasses? They could only trace their ancestry twelve generations, back until just before the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy. Delphinus Greengrass, a Devonshire merchant, had been executed by the Cromwell regime for 'Royaliste Sympathies, the Observation of the degenerate Papisticall Celebration vulgarly knowne as CHRISTMAS, the Practice of Blacke Sorcerie & Assistance at an unlawful and heathenish Spectacle on the Sabbath Daye.' But even the fact that he had been caught and executed was something of a smirch on the family's reputation. It was only the poor and less powerful wizards who had suffered under Cromwell. Such exalted families as the Blacks and Malfoys had simply Portkeyed to their French estates and stayed there until the Restoration, happily celebrating Christmas, watching plays and practising black sorcery without fear of puritanical Muggle governments.

Then again, her bloodline might not be the issue. The Greengrasses had made the grievous social blunder of making their wealth, rather than inheriting it. That didn't matter to most people - the Fudges, for example, had always embraced the philosophy that money was money. But the Blacks were another story. Was Daphne simply too bourgeois for the aristocratic boy? Too _nouveau_? Her family had been in trade for many years, after all, though her father now held a respectable position at the Ministry. Daphne's grandparents had even grown up without the benefit of house elves. Mighn't Aries have decided that Daphne just wasn't good enough to spend time with him?

The library was nearly empty, except for a few Ravenclaws, Hermione Granger...and Aries. The Black heir sat in splendid isolation, as far away from everyone else as he possibly could, and had a thick leather-bound tome propped up in front of him. Daphne shivered at the sight of the book. It was decoratively ornamented with what appeared to be eyeballs. If Aries had been any other student, she would have wondered why he was publicly reading a book that clearly belonged in the Restricted Section, but Aries had already told her that Professor Malfoy gave him permission slips without even asking any questions. It paid to have good connexions, he said.

She took a deep breath and strolled over to his table, smothering her anxiety beneath a well-practised facade of indifference.

'Good evening, Aries,' she said coldly.

Aries looked up. His eyes brightened a bit when he saw her, and he rose to his feet.

'Oh, hello, Daphne,' he replied with a smile. 'What are you doing here? I should have thought you'd be off celebrating the end of exams.'

'I came looking for you,' Daphne replied, a bit taken aback. She hadn't expected Aries to be pleased to see her. He was supposed to be avoiding her.

'I'm glad you did,' he said, pulling out a chair. 'Won't you join me?'

Daphne hesitated. 'I don't want to bother you,' she said.

'You're not,' Aries replied. 'I probably need to pack up soon anyway.' He stifled a yawn. 'I'm starting to see double.'

He motioned again to the chair, and Daphne sat down primly. Boys in general were terribly difficult for her to understand, and Aries was particularly so. If he wanted to spend time with her, then why hadn't he sought her out at all?

Aries plopped back down in his chair and took a few last notes before shutting the horrible book.

'What are you reading?' Daphne asked.

'_An Elementary Introduction to Necromancy_,' Aries replied casually.

Daphne couldn't believe her ears. 'Excuse me?'

'_An Elementary Introduction to Necromancy,_' Aries repeated.

'But that's illegal magic,' Daphne protested.

Aries rolled his eyes. 'I'm not planning on doing it,' he said. 'I'm hoping to figure out a way to counteract it.' He showed her his notes. 'I have to hand over a copy of these to Professor Lupin every week. It's the only way he'll let me check the book out.'

Daphne raised her eyebrows. 'Professor Lupin let you check out this book?'

Aries nodded. 'I've been doing some extra work with him,' he explained. 'Besides, he's my Head of House and my dad's best friend. He's been keeping a close eye on me.'

'You've been awfully busy lately,' Daphne said quietly. 'I haven't seen you much.'

Aries winced. 'I know. I'm really sorry about that. We've had a lot going on. My uncle died, you know, and my dad wants us to do this project with Professor Lupin. I haven't even had any time for pranks.'

'It's all right,' Daphne said, relieved that Aries wasn't just trying to avoid her. 'I understand. Maybe I could help you with your project?'

Aries shifted uncomfortably. 'I'm not sure about that,' he said. 'I mean, I don't think that's a good idea.'

The girl's face fell. She cursed herself for not realising that he was just trying to let her down gently.

'I see,' she said evenly. 'If you don't want to spend time with me anymore, Mr Black, you can just say so.'

Daphne stood up and stormed off with as much dignity as she could muster, ignoring the confused expression on the boy's haughty face. She held her emotions tightly inside until she had reached her dormitory, changed into her nightgown, crawled into bed and drawn the curtains shut. Only then did she dissolve into silent sobs.

* * *

Once the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross Station, Draco sluggishly rose to his feet and followed Aries out of the compartment. The blond young wizard had been walking around in a haze for weeks now, unsure of virtually everything and everyone. He didn't sleep well anymore, and he looked a mess. But every time he shut his eyes he returned to that horrible night at Riddle House. The red glint in his father's glare was burnt indelibly into his memory, and night after night he saw the man he had once admired more than any other point his wand at Draco's chest and begin the Killing Curse.

Sirius had saved him, of course, and Sirius continued to save him every night in his dreams. This, oddly enough, more than anything else, was the cause of Draco's ongoing insomnia. Every time he saw Sirius kill his father, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief, followed immediately by a terrible wave of guilt. How could any good son feel love and gratitude towards his father's killer? Oughtn't Draco to be angry at Sirius, to demand vengeance?

On one level, Draco knew that Sirius had done the right thing, that Lucius had been going to kill him without hesitation. But the importance of family allegiance and blood loyalty had formed an essential part of Draco's upbringing. Family came first, before any other consideration. One's family were one's life. These family bonds had always been particularly important to Draco's mother, and she had passed that sense onto him as well.

Of all family bonds, none was more sacred in the wizarding world than that between a father and his son. A father gave his son his name and position, and a son owed his father reverence and obedience. As much as Draco envied and admired the affection that existed between Aries and Sirius, he knew instinctively that their mutual love was only a fortunate happenstance, and had nothing to do with the essence of the father-son bond. A father and son might hate each other, but they still owed one another a certain respect – one could take Lucius and Abraxas for a ready example. They could hardly stand one another, but, at least up until the previous year, they had played the game the way they were supposed to.

In the end, despite everything that Lucius had done, Draco still felt that it was his duty to hate Sirius for killing him.

But he couldn't.

Sirius had come to occupy far too special a place in his heart, and Draco knew that his best friend's father cared for him as well. It was to save his life that Sirius had cast the Killing Curse in the first place, and Lucius had forfeited every right he had to filial obedience when he had used his son as a weapon for the Dark Lord.

Since Draco could not blame Sirius, he instead transferred that loathing to himself, and felt more and more crushed by guilt with each passing day.

Of course, being only a thirteen-year-old boy, Draco did not understand any of this. Had he known more exactly what he was feeling, he might have been able to talk it out with someone. As it was, he knew only that he was incredibly confused. His mind and heart were torn apart, and the poor boy felt exhausted, defeated and utterly miserable.

Aries saw Sirius through the crowd and ran to meet him. Draco followed slowly behind. Sirius was standing there alone, wearing his Muggle educational-outing ensemble. Now Draco understood better why Sirius had told them to be sure to change into Muggle clothes on the train. He groaned. He didn't much feel like an outing.

Sirius pulled Aries into a hug and then turned to greet Draco the same way. The blond boy responded stiffly, but did at least hug Sirius back. He felt strangely comforted by his uncle's embrace, and hated himself for it.

Sirius led the boys to the car park, asking questions along the way about the last few weeks of school. Aries answered cheerfully enough, so Draco felt no guilt about remained virtually silent, only replying with brief grunts when Sirius asked him a direct question.

They loaded their trunks into the boot of the car and Aries and Draco crawled inside. Aries eagerly grabbed the front seat, but frowned when Draco made no effort to fight for it.

'Are you feeling all right, Draco?' he asked, concern shining in his eyes.

'Just a bit tired,' Draco replied. 'I haven't been sleeping well.'

'I've noticed,' Aries said, furrowing his eyebrows. 'You look awful.'

Sirius abruptly changed the subject. 'I thought we'd get hamburgers today,' he said, successfully distracting Aries.

'Wicked!' the boy exclaimed. 'We haven't had hamburgers in forever.'

Sirius winked at Draco, and Draco smiled back gratefully.

They drove to a Muggle fast-food restaurant where they ordered hamburgers, chips and milkshakes. Sirius and Draco took the food to a table and sat down, but Aries had to run off to use the loo.

'Draco,' Sirius said, shortly after popping a chip in his mouth. 'There's something I need to discuss with you and Aries, but I wanted to mention it to you first.'

Draco frowned at Sirius's solemn expression. 'What is it?'

'You know I care about you and your mum very much, don't you?' Sirius asked, chewing his lower lip.

Draco thought Sirius looked uncharacteristically anxious. He nodded cautiously.

'Well, I'd like the four of us – your mum and I, and you and Aries – to be a family,' Sirius went on.

Draco's eyes widened. Surely Sirius couldn't have meant what he thought he did.

'Excuse me?' he said, his voice a good bit louder than he intended.

'We don't have to if you don't want to,' Sirius said hastily. 'But your mum and I thought it might be a good idea if we got married, and I...adopted you.' He looked down at his tray of food. 'I understand that you blame me for Lucius's death. I'm sorry you had to see that. But I don't regret it. He would have killed you, Draco, and I love you too much to let that happen.'

Draco took a sip of his vanilla milkshake and paused reflectively.

'So you'd be my new dad?' he asked eventually.

'Only if you want me to be,' Sirius whispered.

Draco blinked repeatedly. His eyes were moist. He looked up at Sirius, who was still staring at his burger. He smirked.

'Have you gone mad?' he asked.

Sirius looked up at him, and Draco could see the hurt in his shining grey eyes. The blond boy shook his head.

'I mean, have you any idea how much trouble it would be to have both me and Aries as sons?' Draco went on. He chuckled. 'We'd drive you utterly insane.'

Sirius smiled softly. 'I think I could probably learn to live with it.'

'Draco Black,' Draco said with a grin. 'I rather like the sound of that.'

'It would more likely be Malfoy-Black,' Sirius pointed out. 'Abraxas wouldn't want the family name to disappear, and you're the heir.'

Draco laughed. 'I think I could live with that.' He paused. 'Thanks...Dad.'

Sirius ruffled his hair affectionately and returned to his food. Just then, Aries came back from the loo.

'What's this?' he demanded indignantly. 'You got started without me!'

Draco shrugged. 'It was starting to get cold. You've been gone an awfully long time.'

'Do you realise how disgusting those Muggle toilets are?' Aries retorted. 'It took me ages just to figure out how to use them without touching anything.'

Sirius snorted, then reached over and nicked a couple of Aries' chips. Aries tried to slap his hand and missed.

'You two are pathetic,' he said. 'I've never seen anyone so finicky, except maybe Cissy, but she's a witch. I'd have thought that with all the trouble you get up to you wouldn't mind a bit of dirt.'

'What can I say?' Draco replied in a haughty voice. 'We grew up with house elves. We've very high standards of cleanliness.'

'I grew up with house elves too,' Sirius pointed out.

'True, but then you spent ten years in Azkaban,' Aries replied.

'You might have a point there,' his dad said with a pensive nod.

Aries took a bite of his burger, but dropped it as he swatted Sirius's hand away from his milkshake.

'Watch it!' he protested. 'You've got your own.'

'I thought I'd see what yours tasted like,' Sirius said with a pout. 'Seeing as I've never had a strawberry milkshake before, what with all those years I spent in Azkaban.' He made puppy eyes at his son, who only held his arm protectively around his food.

'If you want a strawberry milkshake you can bloody well order your own,' Aries said, and took another determined bite out of his burger.

Draco laughed, and Aries gave him a curious look.

'You seem to be in a better mood,' he observed. 'What happened?'

Draco grinned at Sirius before turning back to Aries. '_Dad_ and I had a bit of a talk,' he said.

Aries nodded blankly, then went into a coughing fit once he realised what Draco had said.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked.

'Tell me, Aries,' Sirius began. 'What would you say if I told you that Cissy and I are planning to be married?'

Aries' face lit up. 'Are you serious?'

Draco sniggered and opened his mouth to answer, but Aries kicked him under the table. Draco winced.

'Shut it,' Aries growled, then turned back to his father. 'Do you really mean it?'

Sirius nodded. 'We'll be married, then I'll adopt Draco and Cissy will adopt you. We'll be something like a normal family.'

Aries grinned at Draco. 'So we'll really be brothers, after all.'

'We're already brothers, Aries,' Draco said, grinning back. 'But now I'll have a _real _dad, and you'll have a mum.'

Aries burst out laughing.

'What's so funny?' Draco demanded.

Aries controlled his amusement with great difficulty.

'We're going to _share_ our parents,' he managed, before the laughter erupted again.

Draco's lips began to quiver as his mind flashed back to the Christmas of 1986, the very first time he had met Aries: two cousins, standing in a playroom, each fiercely defensive of what he considered to be his own. Things had certainly changed since then. He joined in Aries' infectious laughter.

Sirius stared at them both as though they'd gone mad.

'What, pray tell, is so amusing?' he asked, a single eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Neither boy could restrain his mirth for long enough to explain, so they just kept laughing. Sirius frowned a them for a bit, then a mischievous grin flitted across his face. Before either Aries or Draco knew what was happening, Sirius had Summoned Aries' milkshake and Draco's chips to his side of the table. He smiled smugly as he helped himself to the strawberry milkshake.

'This is delicious, Aries,' he said. 'Good choice.'

The two brothers looked at him incredulously, and then laughed even harder.


	44. Part II: Chapter 15

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I apologise for the delay. Real life has been rather busy, and on top of that, it took me a while to figure out this chapter. I hope you enjoy it****...**

* * *

Chapter 15

The Black wedding was universally expected to be the grandest high-society event of 1993. Narcissa and Sirius had both originally anticipated a modest, intimate affair with just a few family and friends, but the family wouldn't hear of it. There hadn't been a Black wedding since Narcissa had married Lucius, and the Black witches in particular were adamant that the time had come to remind the upper echelons of wizarding society just who exactly held the reins.

Preparations had to be made quickly, of course, since Sirius and Narcissa wanted to tie the knot before the boys returned to school in the autumn, but such things are not too difficult when one has magic – not to mention mountains of gold and silver in one's vaults. The wedding would take place at St Wulfstan-within-the-Walls, where Blacks had been married and buried for centuries. The vicar had received strict instructions that the ceremony was to be traditional, with none of the new-fangled nonsense that lesser families might put up with. Some couples even wanted to write their own vows! Sirius thought that made about as much sense as trying to use 'Come here!' as a Summoning Charm. He had gone through quite a long phase where he didn't really believe in marriage – picking one girl seemed so unfair to all the rest! – but he had always been adamant that if he ever was going to get married he would do it properly. Otherwise, what was the point of the whole exercise?

Clytemnestra, always the professional musician, took charge of the music. She selected a majestic repertoire and hired a boys' choir to sing it. She put them through a gruelling round of rehearsals, and refused all of her brother's offers to enhance the effect with a Sound Editing Charm. She maintained that the natural sound was ever so much lovelier.

As for instrumentation, the Squib had thought a string quartet might be nice, but decided in the end that it was safer to go with a full orchestra. In addition, the church was equipped with a magnificent organ, which, naturally, she would entrust to no one but herself. Druella suggested that Harry and Draco ought to perform a piano-violin duet during the ceremony, but Clytemnestra rejected the suggestion out of hand. The boys were certainly capable enough, but a duet during the ceremony would destroy the whole theme of the repertoire she had prepared. Music and Art must not be sacrificed to maudlin sentimentality. Both boys gratefully agreed with their aunt's opinion.

Druella, however, was given permission to organise the flowers, a task to which even Cassiopeia agreed that she was perfectly adequate. The flowers were carefully raised in the greenhouses at Malfoy Manor, with a good bit of magical assistance. Unlike her late husband's Squib aunt, the witch had no silly qualms about 'naturalness' or 'authenticity', and she felt certain that the flowers would be all the more spectacular for it.

She planned to decorate the church with daffodils and dogwoods. Violets and roses would predominate at the ball in number twelve, Grimmauld Place. (Sirius had the cheek to suggest that the roses be red and yellow, but Druella much preferred pink and white.) Narcissa's bouquet would be a magnificent selection of Transylvanian wildflowers, picked from the grounds of the family hunting lodge and enhanced with a good bit of deft wandwork.

About a fortnight before the wedding, Sirius announced that he, Remus and Abraxas were taking the boys to the hunting lodge in Transylvania for a week. Harry and Draco were delighted, of course, neither one ever having had the chance to visit the lodge before, and both having been rather overwhelmed by the wedding fever that seemed to have overtaken the family. They took a Portkey from Grimmauld Place, and soon found themselves standing at the gate of a small, weather-beaten stone castle built high on a sheer cliff, surrounded by miles and miles of unspoilt forest. Gargoyles stood watch from every corner. The boys started to walk towards the gate, but Sirius pulled them back roughly.

'Watch out,' he said. 'Those gargoyles aren't just for decoration.'

Sure enough, the monstrous statues had narrowed their eyes and raised their wings, then turned threateningly to face the boys. Sirius raised his wand and intoned several lengthy phrases in Latin. Harry could feel the wards drop, and the gargoyles returned to their normal positions. The drawbridge lowered and the portcullis was raised.

'Gentlemen,' Sirius announced. 'Welcome to Castle Negrul.'

Harry and Draco spent much of the first day just exploring the castle. It wasn't as large or obviously magical as Hogwarts, but it had its fair share of hidden passageways and secret chambers, not to mention a magical armoury filled with all manner of enchanted weaponry and instruments of torture. Most of all, this castle was _theirs_. The castle recognised them and responded to their commands, and the house elves obeyed them without question. Harry and Draco thought it was absolutely brilliant.

No visit to a hunting lodge is complete without a hunting expedition, and Sirius took them out into the woods every day. Muggle-hunting, of course, was out of the question – much to Abraxas's disappointment – and Sirius had also forbidden them to hunt deer or wolves, but there were plenty of bears and rabbits. There were fish in the streams and birds in the trees, and the hunting party had a good deal of success.

In the evening, the five wizards dined in the castle, enjoying the fruits of their triumphs. The house elves were quite adept at preparing game, and Harry and Draco were more than satisfied. After dinner, they all sat up late together, chatting or gazing at the stars whilst the adults sipped firewhisky and the boys drank butterbeer. The stars were more clearly visible from the castle than they were even from the Astronomy tower at Hogwarts, and Sirius enjoyed pointing out obscure examples and telling nasty stories about the family members who had borne their names. Remus teased him for recounting family lore, but Sirius said that it was the responsibility of every Black man to be able to dish the dirt on all his relations, and he'd be damned if he failed to prepare his sons to fulfil this essential duty.

By the time they returned to England, the boys' muscles were sore from running through the forest, and they were exhausted from staying up late every night. Narcissa fussed over the circles under their eyes and Clytemnestra packed them off to bed. But something had changed. Harry and Draco felt almost as though they had been through some sort of initiation. They were Black men now.

* * *

The ceremony was simply splendid. Druella's enchanted flower arrangements made the ancient stone church appear to come alive, as though Eden had burst forth in the centre of London. Flowers wrapped around every column and adorned every pew, and there was a magnificent arrangement on the high altar as well.

All of wizarding Britain's most notable witches and wizards were present to observe the union – from the Minister for Magic to the entire board of St Mungo's. Remarkably well-preserved dowagers and dapper young playboys sat side-by-side, recounting in loud whispers all the gossip they knew about the couple. Some of the guests had known both bride and groom since they were small children, whilst others had never met them personally. Some, such as Hortensia Selwyn, were long-time friends and allies of the Black family, whilst others, such as Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, were family foes of equally long standing, who had only received invitations because their position in society made it impossible for things to be otherwise.

In the front of the church stood the groom, dressed in magnificent robes of midnight blue velvet, embroidered in gold and fastened with a sapphire clasp. His dark hair was pulled behind his head with a simple black ribbon. Samantha Smith, the reporter from _Witch Weekly,_ furiously jotted down notes for her article on a scrap of parchment. No one knew it yet, but the editors of _Witch Weekly _had recently voted to declare the dashing, dangerous young wizard 'the Sexiest Wizard of 1993'. Extensive coverage of his opulent wedding to _Wands and Cauldrons_' Loveliest Witch of 1979, 1984 and 1987 was bound to generate record sales. It also didn't hurt that Sirius Black had topped _Goldfist Financial_'s annual listing of the wealthiest wizards in Britain the year before.

Beside the groom stood his best man, Professor Remus Lupin, Transfiguration Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _Witch Weekly_'s reporter had very little to say about him, since to her knowledge he had never made any listing of wealthy wizards or been voted one of the beautiful people. In fact, Ms Smith wondered why a grand person like Mr Black would give such an honour to a wizard who looked both skeletally thin and perhaps even a bit ill. His robes, at least, were quite lovely, a perfect complement to Mr Black's own, though Lupin looked a bit uncomfortable wearing them. Ms Smith decided to write that he was rugged and dangerous-looking. That would help the image her editors wanted to create for Mr Black better than saying he was emaciated and seemed to be deathly ill. If Ms Smith hadn't known it to be utterly impossible, she would have guessed he was a werewolf. Her Uncle Algernon had looked much the same way, especially in the days following a full moon. But no one would ever believe that a half-breed and Dark Creature could be made best man at the pureblood social event of the decade. Not in a million years.

The orchestra and organ launched into the stirring strains of Handel's 'Zadok the Priest'. Ms Smith was impressed by the choice. The selection of the eighteenth-century Squib composer was daring and provocative enough to set a fashion trend, yet not so outlandish as to raise the hackles of the traditionalists. Of course, any couple with less impeccable a pedigree than the Blacks – which, if Ms Smith was to be honest, included most everyone, except possibly the Malfoys and the Lestranges, though it was hard to trace those French families back before the Conquest – would never have been able to pull it off. The reporter dashed off another couple of notes. She suspected there would be a sudden upswing in the demand for music by Squib composers who had worked in the courts of Muggle sovereigns, of whom there were actually a good number.

The boys' choir launched into the anthem, the massive oak doors of the church swung open, and the congregation rose to their feet. Narcissa Black was a vision of cold majesty, dressed in a gown that appeared to have been woven entirely from silver thread. She wore a choker made up of three strings of pearls, and her long blonde hair was swept up on top of her head and held in place with a magnificent emerald-encrusted tiara fashioned out of goblin-wrought silver. A lace veil flowed from her tiara down her back, whilst her cathedral-length train was carried by real fairies. The reporter was certain that they had been placed under the Imperius Curse. They were far too docile.

The bride's sister, Andromeda Tonks, served as the matron of honour, which the reporter made careful note of. She had been under the impression that the sisters were estranged. But even more fascinating was the distinguished wizard who accompanied the bride down the aisle: her erstwhile father-in-law, Abraxas Malfoy. It was actually rather touching – the Head of the House of Malfoy returning his widowed daughter-in-law to the Head of the House of Black – if slightly medieval even by the most traditional of standards. Ms Smith found herself devoutly wishing she could see the terms of the marriage contract, especially since there was a rumour that Draco Malfoy, the son of the bride and the late Malfoy heir, was to be adopted by his new stepfather. The inheritance issues would no doubt make fascinating reading for the subscribers of _Witch Weekly_, especially since the Black heir was already quite a wealthy wizard in his own right, having been the sole heir of his late Squib great-uncle. In fact, rumour had it that the home in which the new couple were expected to take up residence actually belonged to Aries Black.

The bride reached the end of the aisle, and old Malfoy placed her hand in the bridegroom's before the couple ascended the stone steps together and knelt before the superb high altar. The stirring music drew to a close and the vicar addressed the congregation in a high, reedy voice, that nonetheless managed to fill the church easily. Ms Smith wondered if he had used a Sonorous Charm.

'Dearly beloved,' he began, 'we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency...'

The service was the classical one, in all its dignity and splendour. Both bride and groom managed to make their vows clearly and audibly – the bride vowing 'to love, cherish, and to obey' the groom – and the remaining music was perfectly executed, if much more traditional than the rather innovative processional. After the final benediction, when the new Mr and Mrs Black exited the church to the exultant strains of the organ, haughty expressions of triumph on their aristocratic faces, Ms Smith thought that it had been the perfect pureblood wedding: formal, majestic, beautiful and trend-setting, and, most importantly, revealing less than nothing about the personalities of the bride and groom. The readers of _Witch Weekly_ would know nothing more about the relationship between the couple than they did the week before: that they were both rich, powerful, very pretty – and far too good ever to talk to the readers of _Witch Weekly_. At least the photographs would be nice. The reporter thought that there would certainly be a vast increase in the demand for old-fashioned weddings. She chuckled. And just last year the dowagers had been lamenting the death of tradition!

* * *

Draco stood by the punch bowl in the ballroom of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, casually sipping his punch and surveying the crowd. His new brother was off searching for Daphne Greengrass, who seemed to have been avoiding him all evening, whilst he himself had just escaped from Pansy Parkinson. Honestly, Draco had no idea why the pug-faced girl ever thought he might fancy her. She was nice enough, he supposed, but she was one of those unfortunate pureblood witches who actually looks inbred. She was sneaky though, and Draco made a mental note to research defences against love potions and infatuation charms before he returned to Hogwarts.

A pretty dark-haired girl in a blue dress came to get herself some punch. Draco guessed that she was about a year younger than he was.

'Good evening,' he said with a smile. 'I haven't met you before. My name is Draco.'

The girl blushed. 'Nice to meet you,' she said, and extended her hand. Draco raised it to his lips, and the girl went beet-red.

'And what is your name?' he asked.

'Astoria Greengrass,' the girl replied.

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Daphne's sister?' He didn't remember seeing her at the Sorting last year.

Astoria nodded. 'That's right.'

'Are you in Slytherin too?'

The girl shook her head. 'No, actually I haven't started Hogwarts yet. I begin next term.'

'I'm surprised. I should never have guessed that you were two years younger than I,' he mused. 'When's your birthday?'

'September 2,' Astoria replied.

'Well, that explains it,' Draco said with a smile. 'My birthday is in June, so we're really only a bit over a year apart.'

The musicians began playing a waltz.

'Would you care to dance, Astoria?' Draco asked, offering the girl his hand. She looked nervous for a moment, but she took it, and accompanied him out to the dance floor. Draco was impressed. The younger girl was quite a good dancer. Talkative, on the other hand, she was not.

'You seem nervous,' he observed. 'Is this your first ball?'

The girl shook her head. 'No, but I'm not used to being around so many very important people.' She lowered her voice into a confidential whisper. 'This is Sirius Black's wedding. They say he's the wealthiest wizard in all of Britain. What if I run into him? What would I say?' She paused. 'They also say he used to be You-Know-Who's number-one lieutenant. What if I annoy him and he curses me or something?'

Draco smirked as he noticed his stepfather dancing nearby with a very familiar young witch.

'You mean _that_ Sirius Black?' he asked, gesturing towards the wizard.

Astoria only glanced briefly in the direction her partner had indicated, then nodded, turning very pale.

Draco chuckled. 'The one who's currently dancing with your sister?'

Astoria looked back, and gasped in shock. It was true. Sirius Black was twirling about the dance floor with her elder sister, and they seemed to be having a good time. Mr Black was making jokes, and Daphne was giggling. Astoria was dumbfounded.

'He seems...nice,' she said after a moment's hesitation.

'He is,' Draco agreed.

'You know him?'

'Of course I do,' the blond boy replied proudly. 'He's my dad.'

Astoria squealed in surprise, and then immediately began to apologise profusely for her childish outburst.

'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'I didn't know. You didn't say your surname or anything.'

'It's really quite all right,' Draco replied with a kind smile. 'Would you care to meet him?'

Astoria's eyes went wide and she shook her head back and forth.

'I think I'd die,' she said.

Draco shrugged. 'All right,' he said. 'But he really is nice.'

Elsewhere on the dance floor, Harry was dancing with his new stepmother, periodically glancing over to where his dad was dancing with Daphne.

'You're doing very nicely, Aries,' Narcissa said. 'I'm quite proud of you.'

Harry grinned at her. 'Thanks, Mum.'

Narcissa's lips twitched a bit. 'I've noticed that you keep stealing glimpses of Miss Greengrass over there,' she said. 'You do know that it's considered courteous for a young wizard to give his dance partner his undivided attention.'

Harry blushed. 'Sorry, Mum.'

'May I ask what you find so captivating about Miss Greengrass?' his stepmother prodded. 'Ought I to be jealous that she is dancing with my husband?'

Harry smiled, but said nothing.

'You can tell me, Aries,' she continued gently. 'I might even be able to help.'

Harry thought about that. Daphne's behaviour had been very confusing, but his stepmother was a girl, after all. Perhaps she would be able to help. He explained all about their strange conversation in the library.

'And ever since then, she's been avoiding me,' Harry continued. 'Whenever I try to talk to her, she suddenly has to leave.'

'I see,' Narcissa said with understanding. 'Aries, I believe Miss Greengrass is quite smitten with you.'

'Me?' Harry was stunned. 'But we're friends.'

'You'll be thirteen soon, Aries,' Narcissa reminded him. 'Miss Greengrass is already. You're coming into that time of life when boys and girls begin to take an interest in each other.'

'But if she fancies me, why is she avoiding me?' Harry asked, utterly confused.

'Because she's worried that you don't fancy her back,' Narcissa replied. 'You've been too busy with your special project to spend time with her, and when she offered to help you with that, you declined.'

'But she can't be involved with my special project!' Harry objected. 'It's too dangerous, and there no reason for her to get tangled up in it.'

Narcissa smiled at him. 'That's true, but she doesn't understand it that way. If you want to keep spending time with her, then I suggest you make it clear to her that you will make the time to do so.' She gave him a curious look. '_Do_ you fancy her?'

'I don't know,' Harry mumbled. 'She's nice. I enjoy spending time with her. I've been teaching her to cook in order to help her with her Potions mark.'

'Then why don't you run along and cut in,' his stepmother suggested. 'It's high time my husband danced with me again. It is our wedding, after all.'

Harry thanked Narcissa and walked over to the other side of the ballroom was Sirius where still dancing with Daphne. He tapped his father on the shoulder. Sirius looked around and smiled when he saw Harry.

'Just in time,' he said, and handed Daphne off to his son. 'You two have a good time.' He looked at Daphne intently. 'And remember what I told you.' The girl nodded.

Sirus walked over to his bride and Harry and Daphne began to dance.

'Hello, Aries,' Daphne said.

'Hello, Daphne. Look, I'm really sorry about not spending much time with you last term. I do want to, and I promise I'll make sure to set aside more time for it next year.' He hesitated. 'That is, if you're still interested.'

'I should like that very much, Aries,' Daphne replied. 'I'm sorry for getting so upset at you without any explanation. Your father was just telling me that boys and girls think in very different ways. I'll try not to jump to conclusions in the future.'

'Excellent,' Harry said, spinning the girl around. 'I look forward to continuing our cooking lessons.'

From the other side of the room, Sirius and Narcissa watched the young couple fondly.

'I think our plan went quite well, Mr Black,' Narcissa said.

'Indeed, Mrs Black,' Sirius agreed. 'Perfectly executed. The rest is up to them.'

He took her by the hand and led her back out onto the dance floor.


	45. Part II: Chapter 16

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Gentle readers, allow me to express my thanks to you for taking the time to read my increasingly-lengthy story, and especially to those of you who have left a review. The busiest season in my real- life profession has commenced, and it is definitely affecting my ability to devote time to writing. Last week, I only posted once! In order to treat you more fairly, and also to make life easier for myself, I have decided to adopt a regular posting schedule. Until future notice, I shall update twice a week: on Tuesdays and Fridays. If something comes up so that I cannot keep to this schedule, I shall do my best to inform you in advance. Thanks again, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

* * *

Chapter 16

At the very end of a narrow lane in the tiny Muggle village of Babbacombe, there stood a small white cottage with a thatched roof and an immaculately-kept English garden. For many years, the cottage had been the residence of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, who had been quite the local celebritites, adored by their neighbours for their gracious hospitality, and much admired for their remarkable longevity. This last was the topic most often brought up in connexion with their names, as it was widely rumoured that they had both been over one hundred years old at the time of their tragic murder the year before, an estimated age that had been ascertained from the fact that they had lived in the cottage for as long as old Mrs Willoughby could remember, and she had turned eighty-seven the previous September. After the Flamels' violent deaths - a subject which would doubtless occupy the village gossips until long after the Second Coming - the cottage had remained vacant for only a few months before it was taken over by a strange man with a stupendously-long beard who, if appearances were any indication, had attained an even greater age than the Flamels. The old man was courteous enough, but the villagers thought him quite stand-offish. In the course of his time in the village, Albus Dumbledore had never once invited any of them into his home.

As if that were not enough to earn the newcomer the unanimous opprobrium of his neighbours, the odd man seemed utterly unable to stay in one place for too long, which, in a village inhabited mostly by the direct descendants of those who had founded it sometime during the Roman occupation, was a significant character flaw. He was always going off on random trips, and when he stayed at home, he was as likely to pace around the garden mumbling to himself as to engage old Mrs Willoughby in conversation. When he did deign to address his next-door neighbour, it was instantly apparent to the tough old woman that he considered himself her superior, and that was something that she could never forgive.

'Snobbish fellow, he is,' she told her sister, Mrs Green. 'Always using big words and showing off his fancy university education. Mr Flamel was never like that, and Mrs Flamel even asked for my shepherd's pie recipe once.'

'If you ask me, this Mr Dumbledore thinks he's something real special,' Mrs Green said. 'And don't get me started on that blooming bird of his!'

Arrogant as the new resident might be, he could not hold a candle in that regard to the companion who had come to join him at the beginning of the summer, much to the distress of poor Mrs Willoughby.

'I think the young man's his son,' she informed her sister. 'He's an unhealthy-looking chap. I doubt he's ever seen a sunny day in his life. Could use a bath, too.' For a woman who believed devoutly that cleanliness was not next to godliness, but rather the very same thing, this was as poor a recommendation as she could possibly give.

'He's a bit of a nasty fellow,' Mrs Green agreed with a nod. 'I saw him at the chemist's shop the other day, and thought I'd welcome him to town. Would you believe what he did? He rolled his eyes at me, and then went on to ignore me completely, without even so much as a "by-your-leave".'

Mrs Willoughby clucked disapprovingly. 'What is the world coming to, Mabel?' she exclaimed. 'When a young man with poor hygiene thinks himself too good to talk to his elders, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are bound to be riding close behind.'

'Right you are, Jessie,' Mrs Green said. 'Right you are.'

Fortunately for the two strange men who lived in the cottage, they continued blissfully unaware of the other villagers' generally low opinion of them, nor would they have cared much had they known the truth. The two wizards were much too concerned with their own weighty problems to fret over a few old Muggle gossips.

'I must say, Severus,' Dumbledore commented one day as they were both poring over some of Flamel's papers. 'The more I have learnt from Nicolas's notes, the more I have come to believe that it is highly unlikely that Voldemort could have been the one to steal the Philosopher's Stone.'

Snape snorted. 'You, learning? That's a surprise. I had come to think that there was nothing you didn't already know.'

'Very little,' Dumbledore admitted modestly. 'But the Philosopher's Stone is surrounded by many mysteries, and Nicolas was reluctant to share his secrets with me. He said that the Stone could only be truly understood by one who had gone though the necessary process of purification.'

'And you never chose to undergo this process?' Snape asked.

'Alas, the burden of my many inordinately heavy responsibilities left me with very little time for such pleasant distractions,' Dumbledore replied. Fawkes trilled in a minor key before flying out into the garden. 'Fortunately for us, however,' the Grand Sorcerer continued, 'Nicolas has left copious records of his research. It seems very clear to me that Voldemort would never have been able to endure direct exposure to the Stone. Even if he had managed to break through my impenetrable defences, Nicolas's research suggests that contact with the Stone would have caused extraordinary pain to one so immersed in Dark magic as he.'

'Perhaps that's why he came to kill the Flamels,' Snape suggested as he turned over a leaf of parchment. 'To make them help him.'

'I think it more likely that Voldemort realised too late that the Stone had already been stolen, and came after the Flamels in the vain hope of finding it here,' Dumbledore mused. 'Unfortunately, they were no match for him.'

'I found it rather surprising that the Dark Lord managed to kill them so easily,' Snape said. 'Flamel had some six centuries to learn to defend himself.'

Dumbledore nodded his head sadly. 'Nicolas was a formidable duellist in his prime. But I believe he had grown very dependent on the Philosopher's Stone. Without its considerable powers to assist him, even his skills were no match for those of Lord Voldemort.'

'Why should that be? Flamel had plenty of Elixir of Life left over.'

'Indeed,' Dumbledore said with a small smile. 'But it is clear from Nicolas's notes that the Stone's powers extend far beyond brewing the Elixir, giving the owner wisdom, strength, perhaps even a measure of clairvoyance. It is these other powers on which I believe Nicolas had become overly dependent, and without which he proved unable to vanquish Voldemort.'

'I see,' Snape said curtly. 'So who do you believe took the Stone, if not the Dark Lord?'

'Only a wizard of great power could have overcome my defences,' Dumbledore said. 'I have yet to ascertain who that wizard might be.' He sighed. 'On an unrelated note, I was wondering whether you have had any success with your research into Aries Black.'

Snape snarled. 'The Black brat? Not yet. Do you care to tell me why you're still so obsessed with him?'

'I have told you, Severus,' Dumbledore said patiently. 'Aries Black is the key to all our future plans.'

'But why?'

'Alas, Severus, I cannot say.'

'You don't trust me,' Snape accused his old Headmaster.

'I would trust you with my life, Severus, but there are nonetheless some secrets that I cannot reveal to you at this time.' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. 'It is, however, quite a lovely day. Why don't you go outside? I have some more _potted lilies _for you to plant in the garden.'

'Again?' Snape complained. 'I hate gardening.' He frowned. 'And I don't like lilies. They bring back unpleasant memories.'

'But they're such lovely flowers, Severus,' Dumbledore said with a smile. 'I find that woolly _rams_ are quite fond of them. Oh, how I love those _hairy_ beasts.' He rose from the table and poured himself a fresh cup of tea, softly singing 'Baa Baa Black Sheep'.

Snape rolled his eyes yet again at the ridiculous connexions the aged wizard's mind could draw, then carried the flowers out into the garden, mumbling under his breath all the way.

'Senile old fool,' he growled.

Dumbledore only sighed in frustration as he sipped his tea, silently cursing Cassiopeia Black, all Blacks, youthful indiscretions and Unbreakable Vows.

* * *

'Well, Abraxas, I never thought I'd say this,' Minerva McGonagall observed as she sat behind her desk, looking up at her old schoolmate, 'but I have been quite pleased with your success at teaching Defence against the Dark Arts this year. I shall be very sorry to see you go.'

Abraxas chuckled. 'One year of teaching is more than enough for an old man like me, Minerva,' he said. 'There's only so much of the children one can stand, though I shall miss my Hufflepuffs.'

The Headmistress raised an eyebrow. 'Your Hufflepuffs? I should never have guessed that they would be your favourites.'

'To be honest, that place belongs firmly to two bold young Gryffindors,' the wizard replied. 'But the Hufflepuffs are very easy to get along with.'

'And the Slytherins?'

Abraxas smirked. 'There's only room for one at the top of the pyramid, Minerva.'

McGonagall shook her head in exasperation. Some things never changed.

'Now I have to find a replacement for next year,' she said with a sigh. 'I don't suppose you have any suggestions?'

'Actually, I do, dear Headmistress,' Abraxas replied, carefully removing a folded sheet of parchment from the inner pocket of his robe. 'The candidate in question is currently on his honeymoon, but I'm sure you'll find him to be more than qualified.'

McGonagall stared at the résumé in shock.

'Sirius Black?' she exclaimed. 'A teacher? Good heavens, Abraxas, we can hardly have two Marauders teaching at Hogwarts. Professor Snape nearly went mad with just the one, and Professor Lupin is by far the more responsible of the two.'

Abraxas's lips twitched. 'Then I suppose it's most fortunate that Professor Snape is no longer teaching at Hogwarts.'

McGonagall groaned. 'Thank you for the reminder, Abraxas. That's yet another position I must fill before the term begins.'

'Let's make a deal, Minerva,' Abraxas offered. 'You hire Sirius, and I will personally take on the responsibility of finding a qualified Potions master. You won't have to worry about it in the least.'

'And if you fail?'

'Then I, myself, shall take Snape's place,' Abraxas said amicably. 'I am quite a talented potion-brewer, if I do say so myself, and I did manage to cover half of Snape's classes after he left. However, I don't think it will come to that. I may be able to persuade a certain qualified teacher to come out of retirement.'

'Professor Slughorn?' McGonagall was impressed despite herself. 'And how exactly do you plan on doing that? The man won't even answer my owls.'

Abraxas smiled condescendingly. 'My dear girl, leave that to me.'

McGonagall looked back down at Sirius Black's résumé. 'The Board of Governors won't like it. I know that you and Professor Lupin believe him to be innocent, and, having spoken with him on a few occasions, I am inclined to agree with you, but he did spend ten years in Azkaban.'

'I have received...er...assurances that Cassiopeia Black has the Governors firmly in hand,' Abraxas said pleasantly. 'You'll receive no trouble from them.'

'So long as I keep you happy,' McGonagall grumbled.

'Minerva, my dear,' Abraxas replied in a suave voice. 'If you're happy, we're happy.'

The Headmistress took a deep breath. Six months before, she would have checked with Albus before making her decision, but Minerva McGonagall had grown far more confident in her position over the previous year, and she had to admit that, as much as she was ideologically opposed to the Blacks and Malfoys, the quality of teaching at Hogwarts had risen markedly since they had begun their interference. Remus Lupin was a wonderful teacher and an excellent colleague, and Abraxas Malfoy had done a perfectly adequate job with Defence against the Dark Arts. He wasn't the best teacher – by his own admission he lacked the requisite patience – but his students certainly mastered the material, as shown by their solid O.W.L and N.E.W.T. results. She had her doubts about how well Sirius would perform, but at least the year would be interesting...

'Very well, Abraxas,' she said at last. 'Inform Professor Black that I should like to see him when he returns from his honeymoon.'

* * *

Late one night in the middle of the summer, Astoria Greengrass awoke to the sound of someone tiptoeing past her door. Thousands of unpleasant scenarios presented themselves to the girl's mind one after another. What if a thief had broken into their house? What if he killed her parents? Would she go live with her grandparents, or would she have to stay with nasty Uncle Crius? What if the thief came after her next? Worse yet, what if he figured out where she had hidden the little diamond brooch her mother had given her for Christmas?

It was this last thought that stirred the small girl to break out of her fear-induced paralysis and investigate the intruder. She crawled out of bed and slipped her pretty pale-pink robe over her gown before carefully putting on her favourite bunny slippers. She grabbed her brand-new wand off the nightstand and headed out into the corridor.

As she crept along the corridor and down the staircase, she ran through all the spells she knew in her head. It didn't take very long. She knew very few – she was only starting school this autumn, after all – and the ones she did know were mostly the ones she had seen her mother using around the house. She doubted very much whether any of those spells would prove effective against such a dangerous intruder, unless she planned to Summon his slippers or dye his grey hairs.

Astoria gathered her courage. There was only one spell that might do. She would have to use Stinging Hexes to force the thief into submission. The Stinging Hex was the most powerful spell she knew, and she had full experience of the pain it could cause. Her mother used it rather frequently when Astoria acted in a less-than-perfectly-lady-like manner.

She heard a noise at the bottom of the long staircase that led down from the foyer. Astoria had never gone downstairs. Her mother had told her that the china and silver were kept there, as well as their house elf, and she had given the girl strict instructions not to disturb him.

The girl took a deep breath. Her mother would have to understand. Astoria couldn't just allow the thief to make off with all their pretty dishes. How would they eat? She grasped her wand tightly in hand and made her way down the dark stairs. She opened the door, and her mouth fell open in shock.

'Daphne?' she asked in a whisper. 'What are you doing down here? Where's the burglar?'

Her sister froze. She was standing over a funny-looking table with fire coming out of the top. A steaming pot sat over the fire, and Daphne held a spoon in her hand. Astoria thought she looked rather like she was brewing a potion.

'What burglar?' Daphne asked impatiently.

'I heard someone outside my room, and I thought that a thief had broken in,' Astoria said.

Her sister sighed. 'It was just me.'

'What are you doing up so late?' Astoria demanded.

'Potions homework,' Daphne replied matter-of-factly.

Astoria nearly believed her, but then she sniffed the familiar smell coming from the pot. It smelled like food. Her eyes went wide.

'Daphne!' she exclaimed. 'Are you cooking?'

'Of course not,' Daphne said, her eyes shifting from side to side. 'Don't be stupid.'

Astoria pulled a chair up beside her sister and peeked into the pot.

'You _are_ cooking, Daphne! Those are noodles.'

'Be quiet!' her sister snapped. 'Someone will hear you.'

'Why are you cooking noodles in the middle of the night?' Astoria asked.

Daphne frowned. 'Go back to bed, Astoria.'

'Why should I?' Astoria shot back. 'I can go tell Mother right this moment. I shall if you don't tell me what you're up to.'

'Fine.' Daphne sighed. 'I've been learning how to cook this year.'

'But why, Daphne?' Astoria asked. 'No decent wizard will ever want to marry you if he learns that you know how to cook. Cooking's for house elves.'

'As a matter of fact,' Daphne replied, 'it's a rather well-bred young wizard who's been teaching me.'

'He can't be all that well-bred if he knows how to cook. He must be nouveau.'

Daphne giggled. 'Would you characterise Aries Black as nouveau?'

Her little sister's eyes went as wide as saucers. 'You've been taking cooking lessons from Aries Black? But he's rich! And good-looking too.'

Daphne nodded smugly. 'We spent hours alone together last year, and at his parents' wedding he told me that he's looking forward to resuming our lessons in September.'

'I'd never have guessed that Aries Black of all people would know how to cook,' Astoria said, stunned at the revelation.

'Would you like to give it a go?' Daphne offered, pushing the spoon towards her sister. The younger girl eyed it suspiciously. 'It really does help with potion-brewing,' Daphne pressed.

Astoria hesitated before taking the wooden spoon in her hand. She felt a sudden tingle rush up her spine as she gave the pot a stir.

'Ooh, this is exciting, Daphne!' she exclaimed.

* * *

Whilst Sirius and Narcissa were on holiday in the Caribbean, Harry and Draco stayed with Melania at the chateau in France, much as they did every summer. Granny Black was quite elderly, but still very healthy, and she did her best to fatten the boys up before school started. They feebly protested that they didn't need any fattening up, but, in the end, they happily abandoned themselves to the old witch's excellent cooking. When not enjoying the pleasures of Granny's table, the boys stayed outdoors and enjoyed the marvellous Provence weather. They swam in the lake in back of the chateau, played one-on-one Quidditch, held broomstick races and explored the woods.

There was however one very strict rule on which Draco had insisted, and of which Sirius had heartily approved: there was to be no training whilst on holiday. Magic could be used, but for recreational purposes only. Harry was the only one who objected, of course. He had become very determined over the past year to take every opportunity to prepare himself to confront Voldemort. Sirius and Draco thought that he had become rather obsessed, in fact, and banded together to persuade him to take a bit of time off. Harry hadn't wanted to acquiesce – he argued that training _was _fun – but in the end he had agreed to take a break from studying.

That did not mean, however, that he was completely deprived of chances to practise his skills. He and Draco had a number of purely recreational hex wars over the summer, and, whilst Draco immediately called a halt to them if Harry used anything too serious, they nevertheless helped to keep the boys in fighting form, which was all the more necessary after they had spent so much time sampling Granny Black's latest culinary triumphs.

About a week before the end of summer, Harry and Draco were flying over the woods when they spotted Sirius coming towards them on a broomstick neither of them had seen before. It manoeuvred with ease as he took it through flips and dives and sharp turns. They watched in amazement as he swooped closer.

'What's that broom, Dad?' Draco asked as soon as his stepfather was within talking range.

Sirius laughed. 'What? I've been gone for weeks. No "good to see you, Dad"? No "how was your trip"? No "I'm glad you're home"?'

'If you wanted all our attention to be focussed on you, you shouldn't have flown in on the most gorgeous broomstick we've ever seen,' Harry pointed out. Longing was in his bright blue eyes as he gazed at his father's broom.

'She is a beauty, isn't she?' Sirius said fondly. 'Boys, you're looking at a genuine, brand-new Firebolt.'

'A Firebolt, really?' Draco exclaimed. 'Is it true that it can go from nought to one hundred and fifty miles-per-hour in ten seconds?'

'Is the Braking Charm really as good as the reviewers claim?' Harry added eagerly.

Sirius smirked. 'You'll have to see for yourselves,' he said. 'You each have your own waiting for you back at the chateau.' The boys exchanged delighted grins, and Sirius chuckled. 'Last one there is a drunken flobberworm!' he shouted.

With that, he peeled off at extraordinary speed back towards the house. Harry and Draco shot after him, each thinking the same thing. They had the greatest dad in the world.


	46. Part II: Chapter 17

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I apologise for being somewhat behind in responding to reviews at the moment. I fully intend to catch up in the next few days or so. For now, here's the next installment. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Chapter 17

After they had seen Harry and Draco off at the train station on September 1, Sirius decided to take Narcissa out for lunch before he headed to Hogwarts himself. The weather was rather fine that day, so they drove through the city in his brand-new red convertible with the top down. Their destination was The Ivory Ibis, a very posh restaurant that had catered to the uppermost crust of British wizarding society since the reign of Queen Anne. Sirius and Narcissa had both eaten there often as children, and whilst the ambience was much more to Narcissa's taste than his own, Sirius had to admit that the cuisine was excellent.

The restaurant was located on an island in the Thames, and accessible only by a pedestrian bridge. Both island and bridge were enchanted so as to be invisible to both Muggles and Muggleborns. Access to the restaurant had formerly been restricted to high-society purebloods, but the proprietors bowed to popular pressure in November of 1981, and began to admit half-bloods to luncheon. Even so, half-bloods were not admitted to dinner at the exclusive establishment until 1987, when new legislation imposed a hefty fine on any business that still discriminated between persons of documented wizarding birth based on blood status.

An extraordinarily-thin wizard greeted them at the door. He was wearing immaculately-pressed dress robes and spoke in a fair approximation of a French accent. He was so scrawny, however, that Sirius felt somewhat stout just from standing next to him, which was saying something, given that Sirius had still not fully recovered from the emaciating effects of his imprisonment.

'Bonjour, Monsieur et Madame Black,' the wizard said. 'Follow me, if you please.'

There was no need for any introductions. The Ivory Ibis prided themselves on knowing everything about their clientele, and Sirius privately thought that in this regard they managed to put even old Ollivander to shame. The wildest rumours were heard about the Ibis's extensive spy network, most of which Sirius discounted, but there was no denying that they knew more than they had any business to do.

The wizard led them to a secluded table with a marvellous view of the river. After they were seated, he put up a Silencing Charm to preserve their privacy, as well as a soft Instrumental Charm tuned to Narcissa's musical tastes. No one came to take their order. At The Ivory Ibis, the kitchen staff selected what they thought one would like best, based on their extensive research into one's culinary preferences. They only bothered to pass out menus to those who were not considered important enough to have their eating habits on file at the restaurant. In any event, satisfaction was guaranteed, and no one had sent a meal back to the kitchen in over two centuries. Though in recent decades a few resolute souls had tried their hardest to dislike what the Ibis set before them, none had succeeded.

Just as Sirius began to be thirsty, goblets of ice-cold water appeared on the white-lace tablecloth, along with a freshly-baked French loaf and a dish of the house butter. Sirius and Narcissa placed their linen napkins in their laps and helped themselves to the hot slices of bread.

'It's hard to believe the boys are beginning their third year at school,' Narcissa said as she buttered her bread. 'They're growing up so quickly.'

'I know exactly what you mean,' Sirius agreed. 'I feel like I'm going to blink one day and find out that Draco's teaching Potions at Hogwarts and Aries is Headmaster.'

Narcissa frowned. 'I don't know about that,' she said. 'I can't really see either of them teaching.'

'Whoever could have guessed that I'd be teaching one day?' her husband pointed out as he took a sip of water. 'But here I am.'

The blonde witch chuckled. 'True, but you'd never do it if you didn't have an ulterior motive. Lupin, on the other hand...I think he was born to teach.'

'Remus always was an odd duck,' Sirius replied, then took a bite of bread.

'Do you really think it was wise to keep your new employment secret from the boys?'

Sirius snorted. 'Of course I do. I hardly ever get the chance to surprise them properly. I can't wait to see the looks on their faces.' He paused. 'Cissy, you don't mind that I'm going to Hogwarts this year, do you?'

Narcissa looked surprised. 'I? Mind? Why should I mind?'

'Well, we did just get married, and it's not generally considered polite for a husband to abandon his wife just a couple of months after their wedding.'

His wife laughed. 'That's very sweet of you, Sirius, but I shall manage perfectly well on my own,' she said. 'We had a lovely holiday in the Caribbean, and I think that's a sufficiently auspicious beginning to our married life.'

A dish of pâté de foie gras appeared in front of them, along with a fresh salad for Narcissa and onion soup for Sirius.

'Besides,' Narcissa continued, 'I think it's a very good idea for you to take the boys' training in hand. You are quite a talented duellist, as you well know. Uncle Alphard always said you were as gifted as Bella.'

Sirius snorted. 'Of all the people with whom he could have compared me, he had to pick her!'

His wife raised an eyebrow. 'Considering that Bella was universally recognised as the most powerful duellist amongst the Dark Lord's lieutenants – much to Lucius's chagrin, I might add – it is a great compliment for you to be considered her equal. In any event, I think you're the perfect person to teach the boys. The only more competent duelling tutors I can think of would be Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself.' She smirked. 'And neither of them is available for the position.'

'I'd rank Aries pretty high up there as well,' Sirius observed. 'He's so powerful, it frightens me sometimes. In terms of raw magical ability, he could probably hold his own against Dumbledore or Riddle. It's his fine skills and strategy he needs to work on.'

'And those are areas in which you and Lupin are perfectly well-suited to instruct him,' Narcissa concluded. She gestured towards the dish in the centre of the table. 'This pâté is simply marvellous.'

Sirius nodded. 'The soup is excellent as well. How's the salad?'

'Very good,' Narcissa replied. 'The Roquefort has just the right amount of piquancy.'

Their dishes vanished just after they finished the first course – not so quickly as to interrupt them whilst they were still polishing off the last tasty morsels, nor yet after such a long time as to force them to wait excessively. Narcissa had only finished two thirds of her salad, but the elves could tell perfectly well that she would not be eating any more, and cleared her plate anyway.

The main courses appeared promptly thereafter. Sirius got a rack of lamb with potatoes Dauphinoise and asparagus, whilst Narcissa received grilled salmon with butter-cooked rice and spinach. Alongside their plates appeared drinks: a self-refilling glass of Bordeaux for Sirius and a single, non-refilling glass of Chardonnay for Narcissa.

Narcissa eyed Sirius's plate dubiously.

'After a lunch like that, I doubt you'll be able to manage at the Sorting Feast,' she observed.

Sirius grinned. 'I've never met a meal that got the best of me,' he said as he cut into his meat. 'And besides, I've only just recently got within sight of my pre-Azkaban proportions. My goal is to be back to normal by the end of the year.'

'Well, if you continue to eat like this, I have no doubt you'll succeed,' his wife replied wryly.

Sirius placed a large piece of lamb in his mouth and moaned in delight.

'It's delicious,' he whispered in worshipful tones. 'It practically melts in your mouth.'

'What else would you expect from The Ivory Ibis?'

Sirius shrugged. 'You may have a point there.' He took a sip of wine. 'What are you planning to do whilst we're all away at Hogwarts?'

'As I'm now the mistress of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, I thought I'd go there and do some redecorating,' Narcissa replied.

'Grimmauld Place?' Sirius pouted. 'Why would you want to waste your time in that draughty old rubbish heap?'

'It's larger than the house at Windermere Court, and more conveniently situated,' Narcissa replied.

'You're not going to make us move there, are you?' Sirius asked, just a hint of a whinge in his tone.

'Well, we must think about the long term, Sirius,' his wife said. 'Eventually Aries will marry and want his own place to live. We'll have to move out then.'

'Aries would never kick us out of number seventeen, Windermere Court!' Sirius objected.

'Of course not,' Narcissa replied coolly. 'That doesn't mean that we ought to take unfair advantage of his hospitality.'

Sirius drained his glass, and it refilled.

'I hate that bloody house,' he growled.

'Language, Sirius,' Narcissa said primly. 'There are ladies present.'

There was a long pause in which they continued to eat in silence. Eventually Sirius spoke up.

'I don't sleep well there,' he said quietly. 'You know those nightmares I had on our honeymoon?'

Narcissa nodded.

'I've had them ever since my time in Azkaban,' he went on. 'At Windermere Court, I can relax a bit. I only have them a couple of times a week.' He hesitated. 'But whenever I have to stay at Grimmauld Place, I get them every night. The longer I stay there the worse it becomes. I can't even get back to sleep afterwards, because the whole house is like my worst memories come to life. If I had to live there, I honestly think I might go mad.'

Narcissa's expression softened. 'I didn't realise it was that bad,' she said. 'You've adjusted so well...I suppose I just preferred not to think about how hard it must be for you.'

Sirius speared a piece of asparagus on his fork. 'I've had plenty to keep me busy, not to mention Aries and Draco to keep me focussed. They're good kids, Cissy.'

'They are indeed,' Narcissa agreed with a small smile. She placed her hand gently over her husband's. 'Let me work on the house, and give it a try. If it still gives you nightmares, we'll try something else. Perhaps we can stay at Windermere Court and let Aries take over Grimmauld Place when he comes of age.'

Sirius nodded. 'That sounds reasonable.' He smiled at his wife. 'Thanks, Cissy.'

* * *

Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Draco were sitting in a compartment with Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins, feasting on a large picnic basket full of Mopsy's excellent cooking, playing Exploding Snap and generally having a grand time.

'I don't know why our idiot baby brother still doesn't like you,' Fred said as he devoured a sausage roll.

'You two have the best care packages of anybody in Hogwarts,' George added, sneaking an éclair.

Dean shrugged. 'I think he and Seamus are still convinced that Aries and Draco are Dark wizards.' He looked at the two stepbrothers apologetically. 'They cornered me on the Express last year and warned me to stay away from you if I knew what was good for me.' He snorted. 'Seemed to think you lot were Death-Eaters-in-training.'

'What did you say to that?' Draco asked.

'What else would I say?' Dean replied with an evil grin. 'I told them they had it all wrong. You two are the miniature Dark Lords. _We_ are the Death-Eaters-in-training.'

The whole compartment laughed uproariously at that.

'That explains why Mum was going on about how we shouldn't spend so much time with you and Lee this year,' George said.

Fred nodded. 'We were starting to think she just didn't like the idea of us having friends.'

Harry smirked. 'This is brilliant.'

Everyone except Draco looked at him strangely. The blond boy, however, was accustomed to his brother's sudden bursts of insanity.

'Don't you see?' Harry went on. 'If Weasley...'

Fred cut him off. 'Don't call him that, Aries.'

'Pick something else,' George agreed.

'How about "Weasel"?' Draco suggested.

George shook his head. 'That would be insulting us too.'

'Ronnie, Ronniekins, Ronster,' Harry mused. 'What's his middle name?'

'Bilius,' the twins said in unison.

Harry and Draco gave each other identical looks of glee.

'That's perfect,' Harry said.

Draco sniffed. 'And he thinks our names are funny.'

'Well, they are a bit, mate,' Fred said, only to flinch as Harry and Draco glared at him.

'As I was saying,' Harry went on in a harsh voice, effectively changing the subject. 'If _Bilius _thinks that Dean here is evil too, then perhaps we could have a bit of fun with that.' He chuckled. 'What if they thought Dean were Mini-Mort, instead of me and Draco?'

'Me?' Dean exclaimed. 'They'd never buy it. I'm Muggleborn.'

'You don't know that for sure,' Lee pointed out.

'Yeah, for all we know, your dad was really You-Know-Who,' Fred said.

Dean looked slightly uncomfortable at that, and Draco frowned.

'Of course, we know that's not the case,' Harry said hastily. 'For one thing, you look nothing like him.'

'But our dear brother Bilius doesn't know that,' George pointed out.

Dean shook his head incredulously at the twins' single-mindedness. 'All right,' he said. 'I'll play along. What did you have in mind?'

* * *

After dessert – Narcissa had a small dish of lemon sorbet, whilst Sirius enjoyed a large slab of chocolate cake with an enormous scoop of mint ice cream – they returned to Windermere Court, where Sirius began packing his trunks. He was, in fact, far worse about putting such things off than either of his sons, and had been ever since his student days. Going to Hogwarts as a part of the staff only made the temptation worse, since he knew that if he forgot anything he could just pop back home to pick it up.

'Heading off to Hogwarts already, Padfoot?' a familiar voice said, filling Sirius, as it always did, with an equal measure of sorrow and delight.

'That's right, Prongs,' he replied, looking up fondly at his best friend's portrait. James was sitting on the bank of a small stream, dangling his feet in the briskly-flowing water. 'I'm a professor now.'

'Merlin help us all,' James snorted. 'I'd never have figured you for the respectable one.'

Sirius grinned. 'I'm married now and everything.'

'I still can't wrap my mind around that one,' James said, running his fingers through his hair. 'I'm happy for you though. I never thought you'd manage to tie the knot.'

'I never had a problem getting the girls to notice me,' Sirius replied smoothly.

James gave him a sharp glance. 'You know perfectly well what I mean, Padfoot.'

Sirius hesitated before giving his friend a curt nod. 'I do.'

'I'm glad,' James said with a sigh. 'I always hoped you'd be able to have what I have with Lily.' He shuddered. 'Even if it's with Cissy Black, of all people.'

Sirius laughed. 'I wouldn't exactly say that Cissy and I have what you and Lily did. Our relationship is a bit more...pragmatic.' He paused. 'Damn, I've missed you, Prongs.'

James smiled at him sadly. 'I'm sure. I can't imagine what I'd do if our positions were reversed. Or if I'd survived and Lily died.' He shook his head. 'That would have been awful.'

'But Harry would have had you,' Sirius said in a low voice. 'He wouldn't have to live with all these bloody disguises and lies. He wouldn't know more Dark curses than both effing Lestrange brothers put together.' He kicked his trunk. 'I hate this, Prongs. Harry's a really great kid. He deserves to have a real father, not some good-for-nothing godfather who couldn't even manage to be there for the first ten years of his life. I got myself locked up in Azkaban and left him to be abused by the Muggles from Hell, and then to be moulded by my Wicked and Most Evil relations into the second coming of the Dark Lord.'

'Let me tell you something, Padfoot,' James said gravely, leaning forward in the painting. 'I've watched Harry grow up over the past several years. You're right. He's a fantastic kid. Of course I wish he still looked like me. Of course it hurts a bit every time he calls me "Uncle James".' He growled suddenly. 'Do I wish he didn't have _Magick Moste Evile _memorised? Absolutely.' He shook his head. 'But I made you Harry's godfather for a reason, Padfoot. And not once in all this time have I ever regretted that decision.'

'I haven't a clue what I'm doing,' Sirius said softly. 'You were such a great dad.' He snorted. 'What am I saying? You still are. All my best ideas come from you.'

James smirked. 'Even dead, I'm still the brains of the operation.'

'I always figured there was some reason for that big head of yours,' Sirius shot back, trying and failing to hide a grin.

James took a pebble from the stream and tossed it repeatedly in the air, catching it unfailingly in his hand.

'You're a brilliant dad, Padfoot,' he said sincerely. 'To Harry, and to Draco too. They adore you, and it doesn't take a genius like yours truly to see that you feel just the same way about them.' His face twisted into a funny expression. 'Frankly, in your position, I don't know that I'd do half as well.'

'Thank you, Prongs, for that beautiful and odoriferous load of crap,' Sirius said with a loud guffaw. 'False humility doesn't become you.'

James smiled. 'All right, so I was lying about that last part. I always knew I'd be a great dad. Hell, I _was_ a great dad. Sometimes I think my entire purpose in life was simply to win Lily's heart and be Harry's father.'

'You're forgetting your most important role,' Sirius observed. 'You were Sirius Black's best mate for far longer than you were Lily's husband or Harry's father.'

James nodded pensively. 'That's true.' He chuckled. 'And I think I did a halfway decent job of it, too.'

Sirius grinned. 'The best.'

James jumped to his feet. His trousers were rolled up to his knees, yet even so he had managed to get them wet around the edges.

'I don't suppose you can take me with you?' he said hopefully.

Sirius shook his head. 'McGonagall would have kittens. She had a hard enough time accepting the idea of two Marauders on staff.'

James looked solemnly into his best friend's eyes.

'Give them hell from me, Padfoot,' he said.

Sirius's blue eyes glinted mischievously. 'It will be like we never left.'


	47. Part II: Chapter 18

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Here's the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 18

Harry and Draco walked into the Great Hall with their four friends and made their way over to the Gryffindor table. As always, Harry's eyes darted up to the head table to see who would be the new Defence master. This year, of course, there would also be a new Potions master, Professor Slughorn. He was a good friend of Abraxas's, and had agreed to return to teaching as a personal favour. (Abraxas had warned Harry, however, that he would be expected to become a part of the professor's 'Slug Club'.) A rather portly wizard sat next to Professor McGonagall, and Harry supposed he must be Slughorn. He fit Abraxas's description perfectly. Harry continued scanning the row for any other new teacher, and his jaw dropped open when he saw the wizard who was sitting beside Remus.

He hit Draco in the arm, and the blond boy glared at him in annoyance.

'What did you do that for?' he demanded.

Harry jerked his head towards the head table. 'Look who's sitting beside Uncle Moony,' he said with a grin.

Draco complied, and gasped before beginning to chuckle. 'I should have guessed,' he said. 'It was bound to be him or Aunt Cassie.'

'This year is going to be bloody effing brilliant,' Harry replied with a triumphant smirk on his lips. 'Hogwarts will never know what hit it.'

'What are you two going on about?' Fred demanded.

Draco grinned at him. 'Check out the new Defence master,' he said. 'He's the one sitting by Professor Lupin.'

All four of their friends looked up at the head table, and the twins erupted with shouts of delight.

'Who is it?' Dean asked.

'It's their dad,' George told him.

'Really?' Lee exclaimed. 'Sirius Black is teaching here at Hogwarts?'

'Why didn't you tell us?' Fred asked.

'We didn't know,' Draco said defensively.

Harry nodded in agreement. 'I bet he wanted to keep it a surprise.' He laughed. 'You lot realise what this means, don't you?'

'What's that?' the twins said in unison.

'Both surviving Marauders are teaching at Hogwarts this year,' Harry said.

The twins grinned at each other.

'What do you reckon, Fred?' George said to his brother. 'Think we might actually learn something?'

Fred smirked. 'What do you think Mum will say once she learns who our new Defence professor is?'

Just then their younger brother walked by.

'What are you on about?' Ron demanded. 'Who's the new teacher?'

Fred only jerked his head towards Harry. 'Ask him.'

Ron narrowed his eyes, but looked at Harry expectantly. 'Well, Black?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's my dad.'

'WHAT?' Ron shouted, ignoring the fact that several heads turned to stare at him. 'Sirius Black is teaching here at Hogwarts? He's a murderer!'

'He is not,' Harry said with a sigh. 'He was released from prison, remember?'

'So you're saying your dad has never killed anyone?' Ron asked incredulously.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Only really annoying redheads, Bilius.' His eyes gleamed dangerously. 'You ought to watch yourself. It's a family trait.'

'Are you threatening me?' Ron growled.

'What do you think, Bilius?' Fred taunted him.

'To think that someone so thick could be related to us,' George added.

Suddenly, Dean spoke up, his voice calm and even.

'Fred and George, kindly desist from tormenting your brother,' he said, then turned to Harry. 'As for you, Aries, you will not kill Bilius unless he gives you due cause. He is a pureblood after all.'

Fred and George looked confused, but Harry's lips twitched in understanding. He replied to Dean with a quick bow of the head.

'As you wish,' he said, then glanced significantly at Fred and George. The twins' faces lit up with comprehension, and they likewise bowed their heads.

'Yes, my...Dean,' Fred said.

'Your wish is our command,' George whispered in a respectful voice.

Draco and Lee had to struggle to stifle their laughter, but Ron and Seamus had worried expressions on their faces as they glanced back and forth amongst the friends. Dean's features were a mask of cool arrogance, whilst Harry and the twins kept their eyes lowered respectfully whenever they glanced in his direction.

'Tell me, Draco,' Dean drawled. 'Do you think your stepfather will prove an adequate instructor? Do you think his knowledge of the subject is equal to that of your esteemed grandfather?'

The blond boy nodded reverently. 'Indeed,' he said. 'Dad's knowledge of special magic is unsurpassed. After all, he learned it directly from your...I mean, from the Dark Lord.'

Dean smirked. 'Excellent. I trust that I shall find him...satisfactory.'

'Dean, what's got into you?' Seamus asked.

Dean turned to give Seamus a cold glare, but before he could open his mouth to respond, the main doors of the hall opened, and Professor Sprout led in the soaked and bedraggled first years. The Sorting proceeded as usual, with no particular surprises, and the Headmistress officially began the feast.

The boys dug into the food heartily, and Dean made a point to demand certain particularly choice morsels, which the others reluctantly gave him. The twins looked as though they were beginning to resent how far Dean was taking his role as the Dark Lordling, but Harry was proud of how he was pulling it off so far. He considered Dean Thomas to be living proof that Muggleborns didn't all have to be arrogant swots or ignorant nincompoops. And if he wanted to take advantage of his role to ensure that he got the best cut of roast beef...well, what was the point of being Mini-Mort if one could not even enjoy any of the perquisites?

Once the delicious feast was done – and Harry had enjoyed three helpings of cake – McGonagall stood up to give her speech. The entire Hall fell silent in an instant.

'It is my great pleasure to welcome all of you back to Hogwarts this year,' she began. 'I would encourage all of you to take notice of the school rules, which are clearly posted in the Common Room of each House. In addition, beginning this term, all students will discover their very own copy of the rules lying on their beds when they return to the dormitories.'

Harry and Draco gave each other knowing smirks at that, but Hermione Granger was unable to suppress her giggle of delight, which earned her the glares of the entire Gryffindor table.

'If you have any questions concerning the school rules, or any other aspect of life at Hogwarts,' McGonagall continued, 'you may consult your House prefects. You are also reminded that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students unless accompanied by a staff member, and that the use of magic is prohibited in the corridors.' She glared at the students as if daring them to protest. None of them did.

'I should also like to introduce one new staff member, and welcome back another who has graciously consented to return from his retirement,' she went on. 'Professor Horace Slughorn, our long-time Potions master, has taken up his old post, recently vacated by Severus Snape.'

There was polite applause from all the tables. The stout old wizard waved his fingers at the students, but remained in his seat. Harry supposed it was too much effort for him to stand after such a heavy meal.

'Professor Slughorn will also be resuming his old position as Head of Slytherin House,' McGonagall said once the applause died down. 'As for our new professor, I should like you all to welcome Professor Sirius Black, who has kindly agreed to teach Defence against the Dark Arts this year.'

Harry and Draco jumped to their feet in vigorous applause, along with their friends, and, of course, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team. Many of the Slytherins applauded as well, knowing what a very important man Sirius Black was turning out to be. Of the rest, a few applauded – mostly the children of prominent pureblood families who had been invited to the Black wedding – but most broke out into loud whispers. Sirius rose to his feet in a dignified way and bowed graciously. He glanced over at the boys and winked before drawing his wand and pointing it into the air.

'_Alada Chocavra!_' he shouted, causing shrieks of terror to erupt from several girls, and not a few boys. There was a burst of pink light from his wand, and thousands of chocolate Galleons rained from the ceiling on the unsuspecting student body. Sated with dessert as they all were, they were nonetheless delighted to see the raining sweets, and dived to collect as many as they could.

Harry grinned at his father, who was looking rather pleased with himself. Remus shook his head disapprovingly, but his lips were twitching at the edges. McGonagall, for her part, looked as though she was about to have a stroke.

'Prefects,' she rasped once she had regained her composure. 'Please escort the first-year students to the dormitories.'

* * *

'I can't believe you did that, Padfoot,' Remus said that evening whilst they relaxed in Sirius's quarters with a bottle of firewhisky.

Sirius looked offended. 'What do you mean? All I did was pass out chocolate to the students, something I should think you of all people would approve of.'

'Ordinarily, you might be right,' Remus conceded. 'But I've never cared for that particular spell, however much I might enjoy its effects. I could never figure out why you and James invented it.'

Sirius took a long drag on his cigarette. 'We did it with all the Unforgivables,' he said, a distinct note of pride sounding in his voice. 'The Chocolate Curse, the Dulciatus Curse and – my personal favourite – the Butterbeerius Curse. Best bits of spellwork we ever managed.'

Remus chuckled. 'You two did work rather well together,' he said. 'Potter and Black: dangerous enough apart, but if you combine them, they turn into an unstoppable force of nature.'

Sirius smirked. 'You know, Prongs's portrait wanted to come along. He had all sorts of ideas for ways he could help us make mischief with his unique powers of portraiture.'

'McGonagall would have gone spare,' Remus observed. 'It was bad enough after your little stunt at the feast.'

'She only has to put up with me for one year,' Sirius replied with a grin. 'Next year is Aunt Cassie's turn.'

Remus groaned. 'Our programme will be the envy of Durmstrang.'

'Exactly,' Sirius said smugly. 'After a year with the Wicked Witch of Windermere Court, old Minnie will be begging me to come back.'

Remus sighed despairingly as he filled up their glasses.

'Do you ever intend to stop interfering with the teacher-selection process?' he asked.

Sirius smiled. 'Of course,' he replied. 'Just as soon as the boys finish school.' He thanked Remus as he accepted his glass back. 'Besides, you're hardly in a position to complain. You too have benefited from the munificent meddling of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.'

Remus snorted. 'Just when did the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black begin to concern themselves with the employment prospects of werewolves?'

'When I took over,' Sirius replied. 'I've also invested a good deal of gold in a Muggle firm called Micro-Socks.'

'Why would you care about Muggle footwear?'

'I don't,' Sirius said, a broad grin on his handsome face. 'But I've made it my personal ambition to do everything possible to make my parents spin in their graves.'

'Investing in a company that makes socks for Muggle children is a sure way to do that,' Remus agreed.

Sirius took a sip of firewhisky. 'It gets better,' he said. 'Micro-Socks is headquartered in the States.'

His werewolf friend chuckled. 'What better way to annoy your mother than to give her money to American Muggles?'

'Precisely,' Sirius replied, a bright glint in his eyes. 'That's why a made a point of taking the gold out of what was left of her marriage portion.'

'You're a horrible son, you know?'

'So she was fond of telling me.' Sirius shrugged. 'She was a horrible mother. Turnabout is fair play.' He ground his cigarette into a crystal ashtray he had ordered engraved with the family crest, aiming the butt, as always, for the motto. 'So, Professor Moony, what do you think of our boys' Transfiguration skills?'

'Harry's at least as good as you and James were, and Draco's not far behind, probably just ahead of where I was at his age,' Remus replied. 'Of course, Harry's capable of more advanced work if I let him use Parseltongue, but I've restricted him to using it during our extracurricular training.'

'That's good,' Sirius said darkly. 'I'd rather him not use Parseltongue for what I have in mind.'

Remus's lips twitched. 'And what exactly did you have in mind, Professor Padfoot?'

Sirius took another sip of firewhisky. 'I've decided to teach the boys the Animagus transformation.'

'Don't you think they're still a bit young?' Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Prongs and I were their age when we started working on it,' Sirius pointed out. 'And we didn't have the benefit of an experienced instructor.'

Remus sighed. 'Well, you are their father, and an actual Animagus. I am neither. You're probably far more qualified than I to decide when they're ready to learn.'

Sirius only smiled contentedly.

'You look happy,' Remus observed. 'What's that about?'

'You just reminded me that I'm Harry and Draco's dad,' Sirius replied. 'I still get a thrill out of thinking about it.'

'They're great boys,' Remus said.

Sirius nodded. 'I know.' He furrowed his brow. 'I really don't deserve them.'

'No, you don't,' Remus said as he sipped his drink. 'But they deserve you.'

Hogwarts' newest professor laughed. 'Cheers, Moony.'

* * *

That evening, Harry and Draco sat up in their dormitory and talked with Dean. Ron and Seamus were out walking somewhere, so they could speak freely.

'Good job at dinner,' Harry said to Dean. 'You pulled it off just right.'

Draco nodded. 'Where did you learn to talk in that snobbish, arrogant way?' he asked. 'It seemed very authentic.'

Dean smirked. 'Thank you. I just imitated things I've heard from you and Aries over the years.'

'We don't talk that way!' Draco insisted.

Dean gave him an amused look. 'You do, mate.'

'You make out like we're a couple of bloody toffs!' the blond boy went on.

'If the shoe fits,' Dean replied with a shrug.

The blond boy sniffed. 'Well, I've never been so insulted in all my life. I had thought we were friends, but all this time you've thought I was stuck-up and arrogant.'

Harry's mouth twitched. 'To be fair, Draco, Dean never used those words to describe the way we talk. You did.'

'Don't you mind being thought of that way?' Draco demanded.

Harry shrugged and ran a hand casually through his hair. 'Why should I? We've a lot to be stuck-up about.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'I rest my case. So, what's the next part of the plan.'

'We have to brand all your followers with your Mark,' Harry said, pulling a piece of parchment out of his bag and handing it to Dean. 'I call it "the Marauder's Mark".'

Dean looked down at a drawing of a yellow smiley-face with downward-slanting eyebrows. He frowned.

'It looks like an evil happy face,' he said.

Harry grinned. 'Precisely. I'm also planning to come up with an incantation so we can conjure it everywhere we've performed a prank.'

'I don't know about that, Aries,' Dean said cautiously. 'Don't you think that's taking things a bit far?'

'What are you complaining about?' Harry demanded. 'We're setting you up with power, glory and minions. If you play it right, gold and girls can follow.'

'He's got a point, Aries,' Draco said. 'Besides, if we send up this Mark, everyone will know we were the ones responsible for our pranks. We'll get more detentions that way.'

Harry chuckled. 'Not if we make the Mark so that it's visible only to certain people.'

Draco nodded in understanding. 'You mean Bilius and Finnegan.'

'Can you really do that?' Dean asked in amazement. 'You're only a third-year.'

Draco gave Dean a condescending look. 'Aries can do anything,' he drawled.

'And you wonder why people think you two are arrogant,' Dean muttered as he crawled into bed. 'Crazy cousins.'

'We're brothers now,' Harry reminded him.

Dean sighed. 'That only intensifies the insanity. Look at the twins. They're a pair of nutters.'

Harry and Draco had to concede his point.

* * *

Ron and Seamus were walking through the corridors on their way back to Gryffindor Tower, when they overheard furtive whispers coming from an abandoned classroom. They crept closer to eavesdrop. Inside, they heard Fred and George talking with Lee Jordan.

'So, are you two going to take the Mark?' Lee said. 'The Prince of Shadows wants to know whether he can count on your everlasting allegiance.'

'I don't know, Lee,' George said. 'I mean, you know we'll always support him.'

'We're in total agreement with his aims,' Fred added.

'But binding ourselves to him forever?' George went on. 'Isn't that a bit dangerous?'

'The Prince commands it,' Lee said simply. 'If you refuse, he will smite you and cast you out from amongst his followers.'

'I don't know, Lee,' Fred muttered.

'Aries and Draco have already taken the Mark,' Lee continued. 'I'm planning on taking it tomorrow. Now is the time for you to decide. Are you for us or against us?'

'I'm in,' Fred sighed.

'Me too,' said George.

'Excellent,' Lee replied. 'Soon all of Hogwarts will be under our master's dominion. No more will people think of him simply as Dean Thomas, Gryffindor third-year. Instead, all the school will tremble at the name of Lord Mini-Mort.'

'Hail Mini-Mort,' murmured Fred and George in hushed, reverent tones.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked towards the door. Ron and Seamus exchanged a horrified look and ran for it.

'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' Ron panted when they reached the top of the stairs.

Seamus nodded. 'We've got to stop them. But we're going to need some help.'

'We should let Hermione Granger know what we heard,' Ron suggested. 'She probably knows spells we can use to defeat Dean's Dark powers.'

'Who'd have ever thought it of him?' Seamus said sadly. 'I always thought he was a decent bloke.'

'That what happens when you spend so much time with people like Black and Malfoy,' Ron spat. 'It rubs off on you. Even my own brothers are going to join him.'

'I guess so,' Seamus said. 'Still, I'd have thought Black or Malfoy was more likely to become the ringleader than Dean.'

'So would I,' Ron agreed, shaking his head sadly. 'Dean must have Dark magic that we never imagined.' He suddenly groaned, and turned very pale.

'What is it?' Seamus asked.

'You know how no one knows who Dean's real father is?' Ron asked. Seamus nodded. 'What if it's You-Know-Who?'

Seamus gasped. 'Do you really think that's possible?'

'It must be,' Ron said adamantly. 'It's the only explanation that makes sense.'

Around the corner, Fred, George and Lee huddled behind a suit of armour, clutching the Marauder's Map and sniggering uncontrollably.


	48. Part II: Chapter 19

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to reviews like I was hoping. I've had a sore throat all week, and the past couple of days I've felt truly awful. I'll de my best to make them up.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 19

At breakfast the next morning, Harry received a handsome eagle owl bearing a note written in his dad's carelessly-elegant handwriting. He chuckled as he untied it from the bird's leg, then turned around to look at Sirius, who was eagerly devouring his breakfast at the staff table. Harry caught his attention, then pointed to the note with a questioning expression on his face. Sirius shrugged, as if to say, 'How the hell should I know?', then gestured for Harry to read it. The dark-haired boy shook his head at his dad's antics, then turned back around and opened the note.

The letter bore the family crest at the top, which was Harry's first clue that something was off. Sirius usually only displayed the family crest in two places: his ashtray and his dartboard.

_From Sirius Orion Black, _the note began,_ Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; Father, Defender, Legal Guardian and Sometime Friendly Acquaintance of Aries Sirius Black; Professor of Defence against the Dark Arts, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, etc._

_To Aries Sirius Black, Spoilt, Negligent and Ungrateful Brat_

_When I graciously deigned to grant the repeated and wearisome petitions of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall that I should take up the post of Defence Master this term, I naturally thought that my son, who has so often purported to possess bounteous quantities of filial reverence and affection for my person, would be pleased at the opportunity to spend more time with his adored Parent. This impression seemed at first to be confirmed by said Offspring's friendly demeanour at the Sorting Feast. Imagine my astonishment and dismay when said Offspring made no effort to locate and converse with said Parent after the Feast, or even at any time during that evening, despite the fact that said Offspring possesses both a certain useful article that enables him to locate anyone in Hogwarts at any given time, as well as the means to pass discreetly from one part of the castle to the other with infinite ease. I should have thought that said Offspring would have been more excited to see said Parent's truly wicked private quarters, to which said Parent had been intending to give said Offspring unlimited access, before said Offspring gave evidence of his abominable and unnatural lack of filial respect for his Parent. I wonder whether said ungrateful Offspring has given due thought to the potential advantages of having a loving, doting, affectionate and all-around brilliant Parent on the Hogwarts staff._

_In case you have not decided utterly to forsake all contact with your coolest of Parents, said Parent will be available in said quarters this afternoon at 4 o'clock, and might consider allowing said Offspring to join him for tea, provided, of course, that the supposed Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient, etc., has some sufficiently-persuasive explanation for why he has abandoned his duties to his lord and father._

_I remain, etc., etc.,_

_Disappointedly yours,_

_Professor Black (known to appreciative and respectful Offspring as 'Dad')_

_PS – By 'sufficiently-persuasive', I mean, naturally, such unavoidable crises as the destruction of the cosmos, your premature death due to an impromptu staring match with a basilisk, your absence from the castle last night because you were occupied in saving a remote tribe of South American wizards from a band of rampaging Muggles, or something of similar consequence. Saying 'I forgot' will result in your slow and painful disembowelment, to be followed by having your head mounted on the wall of our illustrious family home as a warning to all future generations of Black Offspring._

Harry looked up from the letter and over his shoulder at the staff table, where Sirius was affecting a look of haughty indifference to anything that might be going on at the Gryffindor table. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his breakfast. Across from him, Draco was reading through his own similar note.

Harry frowned. Draco wasn't quite used to having Sirius as his dad yet. He might take the Marauder's barbs too personally. However, when Draco finished reading, he seemed surprisingly to be the very picture of equanimity.

'What did your note say?' Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. 'Something about a Dark ritual Dad's planning on conducting in his quarters at four this afternoon in order to make me the Heir of the family.'

Harry snatched the note from Draco's hand. 'Let me see that,' he snapped. He looked down at the parchment.

_Dear Draco_, it read.

_Tea at four. My quarters. Make sure Aries comes too. You can use the You-Know-What to find me. Password's 'Jamais Pur'._

_Love,  
Dad_

_PS – I hope we don't have to use owls to communicate all year! (hint, hint)  
PPS – Take the piss out of Aries for me._

Harry glared at his blond brother, who sat smirking evilly at him as he nibbled his bacon.

'What did I ever do to you?' he demanded with faux indignation.

Draco raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Where ought I to begin?' he replied. 'What about that time you fed my pet rabbit to Kaa?'

'He was hungry,' Harry retorted defensively. 'And besides, Kaa was sentient. Mr Fluffybottom was just a dumb animal.'

'As far as _you_ know,' Draco sneered.

Harry ignored his retort. 'In any event, Aunt Cassie chopped Kaa up for potions ingredients the next day,' he spat. 'So you got your justice.'

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Harry's eyes narrowed.

'It _was_ Aunt Cassie who killed Kaa, wasn't it?' he asked in a harsh whisper.

His brother squirmed. 'Perhaps not _technically_.' His face brightened. 'But she did use him for potions ingredients. That part was true.'

'Murderer!' Harry snarled.

'Capital punishment is hardly the same thing as murder,' Draco said primly. 'Besides, you of all people are hardly in a position to criticise me for killing other people's pets. Who was it, again, that killed Bilius's rat?'

'You wanted him gone! He was sitting on your bed.'

'Ah yes, but you didn't have to kill him, did you?' Draco pointed out. 'Come to think of it, you seem to have a rather bloodthirsty history, Aries, when it comes to pets, what with Scabbers, Mr Fluffybottom...not to mention Medusa.'

'That fiendish feline was pure evil,' Harry growled. 'And she was an accident anyway.'

'Both true,' Draco admitted cheerfully. 'But Grandmother was still very upset.'

'So, you went along with Dad's request as revenge for Medusa?'

'Hell, no!' Draco replied. 'I was thrilled when you killed her. Accident or no, they ought to have given you the Order of Merlin for that. She was awful.'

'Well, you killed Kaa as revenge for Mr Fluffybottom, so what excuse do you have for playing along with Dad now?' Harry demanded.

Draco shrugged. 'It was fun.'

'Bastard,' Harry grumbled.

The twins were watching the two stepbrothers all this time with fascination.

'Blimey, Aries, it wasn't even that big of a joke,' George pointed out.

'Aren't you the one who's always saying, "If you can't take it, don't dish it out."?' Fred asked.

'It wasn't the joke,' Harry said indignantly. 'It was the perfidious treason. How would you feel, Fred, if George sold you out to your mother?'

Both twins' faces froze in identical expressions of horror.

'How could you?' they demanded of Draco.

Draco groaned. 'Thanks, Aries.'

His brother grinned back. 'Any time. So, tea at four, then?'

Draco nodded, and both boys returned happily to their bacon and eggs, leaving the Weasley twins to wonder just what exactly they had observed.

Towards the end of breakfast, Remus came by passing out their course schedules. Most unusually for him, he was wearing a pointy wizard's hat that nearly covered all his hair. Harry looked more closely and realised that several red and gold hairs were poking out from underneath it.

'What are you staring at, Mr Black?' Remus snapped as he handed Harry his schedule.

'Nothing, Professor,' Harry replied innocently. 'Though it looks as though Dad's been busy this morning.'

Remus sighed. 'Did he get you too?'

Harry nodded. 'Nothing too major, but it's the principle of the thing.'

His Head of House leaned over. 'Don't tell anyone – except Draco, of course – but he also sent the Headmistress a new litter tray.'

Harry's eyes widened. 'He really has no shame, has he?'

'Not one whit,' Remus agreed, then resumed passing out the schedules.

'What new classes are you two taking this year?' Dean asked the boys.

Harry glanced over at Ron and Seamus before replying. Both of them were trying to look focussed on their breakfasts, but Harry thought he could see their ears twitching as they strained to hear.

'If it please my lord,' Harry said in a low voice, 'Draco and I thought we'd study Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.'

Draco nodded. 'Of course, dread Dean, if you would prefer that we take something else, I'm certain that we could rearrange our schedules completely without too much difficulty.'

'No, those sound fine,' Dean replied casually, glancing over at Ron and Seamus. 'I have heard that both subjects are useful in the pursuit of...special magic.' He sniffed. 'I, of course, with my great gifts in that regard, have no need to study them. That's why I'm taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures.'

'Naturally,' Harry agreed. 'Someone in your position would always be well-advised to know the future.'

'And who knows what Dark creatures you may be able to bring into your service?' Draco added.

'My feelings precisely,' Dean said. 'I'll need all the help I can get when the time comes for me to fulfil my true destiny and take over the world.' He turned around and glared at Ron and Seamus, who yelped as his eyes flashed red. 'What are you staring at, Bilius and Finnegan?'

'N-nothing,' Seamus stammered. Ron was a bit braver.

'You watch yourself, Thomas,' he said. 'We're onto you and your little gang.' He cracked his knuckles. 'You'd best be careful if you know what's good for you.'

Dean narrowed his eyes, and Harry shot a silent Stinging Hex at Ron beneath the table. The red-haired boy winced.

'Perhaps you are the one who ought to be careful, Bilius,' Dean said quietly. 'You don't know the full extent of my powers.'

Ron glared at him angrily, but he and Seamus fell silent.

As they left the Hall, Draco asked Dean about the red-eye effect.

'That was brilliant!' he said. 'How did you do it?'

Dean shrugged. 'They're Colour-Flashing Lenses,' he explained. 'Fred and George picked them up at Zonko's last year. You can decide what colour to flash and when.'

'Wicked!' Harry and Draco breathed in unison.

Dean looked over his shoulders to make sure no one was listening, then spoke to the boys in a quiet voice.

'Look, you two,' he said. 'I love a good prank as much as the next bloke, but I'm not sure how long we ought to keep this up. If we're not careful, we'll just wind up making Bilius and Finnegan really angry.'

'They deserve it,' Draco spat. 'After the way they've treated us ever since we started school? After telling on the twins?'

'Not to mention what happened with Professor Quirrell,' Harry added in a harsh whisper. 'And Uncle Marius.' Dean and Draco exchanged nervous looks. Harry almost never brought up the horrible events of their first year.

'I know,' Dean replied hastily. 'No one's saying they're angels. I just don't want things to get out of hand.'

'Don't worry,' Harry said. 'We have a set of rules to keep pranks from going overboard.'

'Really?' Dean was curious. 'What sort of rules?'

'We really need to be getting to class,' Harry pointed out. 'But the first one is "No Unforgivables".'

'The second is "Nothing that causes more than a single night's stay in the infirmary",' Draco continued.

Dean looked as though he was not precisely reassured by the limits his friends had set themselves, but said nothing about it.

'Well, that's good to hear,' he said in a rather dry voice. 'See you later.'

The black boy went off to the North Tower for his first Divination lesson, whilst Harry and Draco went to Arithmancy.

* * *

'I'm telling you, Granger, Dean is evil!' Ron insisted adamantly as he and Seamus confronted the bushy-haired girl in an abandoned classroom. She only rolled her eyes.

'Dean Thomas is a nice boy,' she said. 'I don't know where you'd even get such a mad idea.'

'We heard Fred and George talking with Lee Jordan,' Seamus began, but Hermione snorted.

'You'd honestly believe anything those three told you?' she scoffed.

'They didn't know we were there,' Ron protested.

'Are you sure?' Hermione asked.

'Yes,' Ron replied. 'Besides, we overheard Dean talking with Black and Malfoy too.'

Hermione actually laughed aloud at that. 'And you'd trust them any more? Honestly, Weasley, just how thick are you? They're only taking the mickey.'

'You don't understand, Granger,' Seamus said reasonably. 'They want to take over the whole school!'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'And you think the teachers will just stand by and let them?'

'Sirius Black is a murderer, and Black's father,' Ron pointed out. 'And Professor Lupin is their friend. He always favours Black and Malfoy.'

'In the first place, I understand that it's Malfoy-Black now,' Hermione replied primly. 'In the second place, I don't think you're being fair to Professor Lupin. I've found him to be very fair and an excellent professor. I haven't met Professor Black yet – and I'll admit that his behaviour at the feast seemed a bit childish – but I really don't think he can be a murderer. Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn't hire him if he were.'

'She hired Professor Malfoy,' Ron pointed out. 'And everyone knows the Malfoys are Dark wizards.'

'Professor Malfoy was actually a rather good teacher,' Hermione replied. 'I'll admit I didn't care for him at first, but I ended up learning very much indeed.'

Seamus put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

'Come on, Ron,' he said. 'It's clear she's not going to help us.'

Ron frowned. 'I'd think you'd be more interested in stopping Lord Mini-Mort.'

Hermione burst out laughing uproariously. 'Mini-Mort? Seriously?'

'That's what he calls himself,' Ron replied with a shrug.

The bushy-haired girl shook her head despairingly. 'And you still don't think this is all an enormous joke?'

'Why should we?' Seamus demanded. 'They're evil!'

Hermione muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'boys', then grabbed her book-bag and left the room. She went downstairs to the library where she had an appointment to help Ginny Weasley – how many Weasleys were there, anyway? – with Transfiguration. When she reached the library, she found that the red-haired second-year was sitting with a strange-looking blonde girl who wore a dreamy expression.

'Hi, Hermione,' Ginny said brightly. 'Have you had a good first day back?'

Hermione nodded. 'All my classes have been really interesting so far, but I haven't had any with the new Defence or Potions masters.'

'We had class with Professor Black today,' Ginny said. 'He's actually rather nice – not to mention pretty to look at.'

Hermione giggled. 'Don't tell your brother that.'

'Which one?'

'Ron,' Hermione replied. 'He and Seamus Finnegan were just telling me that he's an evil murderer, and that Aries, Draco, Lee, Fred and George are all Death Eaters in training.'

'That's ridiculous,' Ginny said with a snort. 'The twins would never support Voldemort.'

'Neither would Aries Black,' the blonde girl said idly. 'He's actually Harry Potter, you know, The-Boy-Who-Lived.'

Hermione, stunned, just stared at the girl. Ginny laughed nervously.

'Hermione,' she said, 'this is...er...Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw in my year.'

'Nice to meet you,' Hermione said.

'You have a infestation of Wrackspurts in your hair,' Luna observed.

Ginny leaned over and whispered into Hermione's ear. 'Luna has loads of odd ideas. This morning she claimed that Professor Black was really a musician named Stubby Boardman.'

'Harry Potter died of dragon pox when he was six,' Hermione said in her most authoritative tone. 'I read all about it in _A Brightly-Burning Flame: The Tragically-Short Life of the Boy Who Lived_.'

Luna only shook her head sadly. 'The author of that book had no idea what he was talking about,' she said. 'Harry Potter was actually hidden by Albus Dumbledore with cruel Muggle relatives who kept him locked in a cupboard under the stairs.'

Hermione huffed. 'As though that could happen!'

Luna ignored her interruption. 'He was rescued by kind garden gnomes – or, to give them their proper name, the _Gernumbli gardensi_ – who took him to be raised by a wealthy Squib whom everyone thought to be named Marius Black, though he was actually Leopold Boardman, Stubby Boardman's father. The Gernumblies used their special magic to change Harry Potter's appearance so that everyone would think he was actually Aries Black, or rather, Herman Boardman. You can read all about it in my father's newspaper.'

'And what newspaper is that?' Hermione asked sceptically.

'My father runs _The Quibbler_,' Luna replied matter-of-factly.

The bushy-haired girl snorted and began to make a snide remark, but Ginny cut her off.

'So, Hermione, shall we get started on our homework?'

* * *

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Harry and Draco found themselves standing in front of an enormous painting depicting the famous myth about how Pallas Athena, the goddess of wisdom, created the owl and gave it to the wizards of Athens so that they could use it for carrying post, thus earning the right to have the city named for her. (Poseidon, according to the myth, had created the hippogriff as his gift, which the wizards found to be somewhat less useful, given the hippogriff's propensity to eat people who were overly eager to get their letters.)

'_Jamais pur_,' Draco said, and the portrait swung open. The boys stepped inside.

Sirius had not been lying in his note. His quarters were simply amazing. They stepped into a spacious sitting room, decorated exclusively in red and gold. There were several large bookshelves filled with everything from heavy leather-bound tomes to Muggle paperbacks. The walls were hung with photographs of Sirius and James, all the Marauders together, and Sirius with Harry and Draco. Behind the sofa hung large photographs of Sirius and Narcissa at their wedding, Sirius and James at James's wedding and Sirius and Harry at Harry's christening. A portrait of Regina Malfoy hung over the crackling fireplace, just above a mounted and stuffed rat, giving Sirius an easy way to communicate with the rest of the family, since she had portraits at all three of the family homes.

'Good afternoon, boys,' Regina greeted them.

'Good afternoon, Aunt Regina,' Draco said politely.

'Hello, Mum,' Harry replied. 'Where's Dad?'

A booming voice from the other room gave Harry his answer.

'So, the prodigal sons have decided to come visit me after all?' Sirius said, stepping through the door on the left wall of the sitting room. 'What's your excuse, you good-for-nothing miscreants?'

Harry smirked. 'We were orchestrating a prank on Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan.'

'Was it a good prank?' Sirius inquired suspiciously.

'The best,' Draco said. 'It's actually ongoing.'

Sirius grinned. 'Those are always the most fun.'

'So does this count as a "sufficiently-persuasive explanation"?' Harry asked cheekily.

Sirius paused in reflection. 'I suppose so,' he said, tousling the hair of both his boys. 'But I expect you to come by and see me every day for the rest of the year.'

'I think we can manage that,' Draco said with a smile.

Sirius waved them through the door into a small private dining room, where a table was set with a very elaborate tea. There were a dozen different sorts of sandwiches, along with cakes of various types and countless little hors d'oeuvres. To top it all off, there was, naturally, a very high-quality pot of tea.

They sat down at the table and tucked into their repast.

'So what is this prank you two are pulling?' Sirius asked.

'Well, Weasley and Finnegan have been accusing us of being wannabe Dark Lords for ages,' Draco began.

'So we thought we'd turn the tables on them a bit,' Harry said. 'We're making them think that our Muggleborn friend Dean Thomas is the actual Dark Lord, and we're just his followers.'

'And they're falling for it?' Sirius asked.

Draco nodded. 'We've got them quavering in their boots at the name of Lord Mini-Mort.'

'Mini-Mort?' Sirius chuckled briefly, then his expression turned grave. 'Speaking of Dark Lords, that's actually part of what I wanted to discuss with you both tonight.'

Both boys leaned forward and listened, all thoughts of pranks completely forgotten for the time being.

'I'll be taking over most of your extra training,' Sirius went on. 'One of the things I want to work on is the Animagus transformation.'

Both brothers' eyes lit up.

'Really, Dad?' Draco responded with glee. 'That's brilliant!'

'I wonder what kind of animal I'll be,' Harry said.

'We'll see,' Sirius replied. 'But you both need to realise that this will be a lot of work. It isn't at all easy. It took us a couple of years to manage it.'

'But we'll have you helping us, Dad,' Harry pointed out.

Sirius smiled. 'That's true. That should make it somewhat easier for you.' He cleared his throat. 'There's one other thing that we need to take care of this year,' he said, glancing meaningfully at Harry.

The dark-haired boy frowned. 'The Horcruxes,' he said.

Sirius nodded. 'The Horcruxes. What do you remember from your time in Riddle's head?'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Riddle made five Horcruxes, and hid them all over Britain. The first, the diary, has already been destroyed. There are four left: a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem, a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin and a ring that belonged to the Peverells.'

Sirius let out a low whistle. 'It's impressive that Riddle managed to get his hands on so many rare artefacts.'

'Well, it's not as though he has any scruples about doing whatever it takes to get what he wants,' Draco snorted.

'Indeed,' Sirius agreed. 'So where are they hidden?'

'The diadem is hidden here at Hogwarts,' Harry explained. 'It should be easy enough for us to find and destroy. The locket will be harder to get to. It's hidden in a remote location, and behind some rather heavy protections. The ring is buried under a hut near Riddle House, also under some pretty nasty curses.' He sighed. 'The hardest to get will be the cup.'

'Where's the cup?' Draco asked.

Harry frowned. 'At Gringotts,' he said. 'Riddle entrusted it to the care of Bellatrix Lestrange.'


	49. Part II: Chapter 20

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Well, I'm feeling better at last, and here's a chapter to celebrate. I apologise for the delay.**

**There appears to be some sort of glitch on the website that hampers our ability to update. Thanks to Teufel1987 and Luiz4200 for the suggestions on how to work around it.**

**On a brighter note, this story has now received over 2000 reviews and over half-a-million hits! My heartfelt thanks to all those who have read and reviewed the story from the very beginning.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 20

Jack Miller sat behind the counter of his father's shop in Little Hangleton, watching his few customers browse amongst the limited selection of goods. It was a Friday, and he would rather have been getting ready for his trip into town with his girlfriend that night, but his father's rheumatism was acting up, so he had to mind the shop instead. Like most days, there were only a handful of old biddies who had known Jack since he was wearing nappies. It was rare for a young person to come into the shop – most people under fifty preferred to drive over to Great Hangleton to do their shopping.

'Your father's upped the price on cat food again, Jackie,' shouted a hunchbacked old woman wearing a moth-eaten shawl. She was standing in front of a display of tins on the other side of the room. 'If this keeps up, he'll be driving me out of house and home.'

Jack sighed. 'Dad doesn't have much of a choice, Mrs Robinson,' he replied. 'It's costing us more money to order them. We have to make up the difference somewhere.'

Mrs Robinson harrumphed, but took down several tins from the shelf.

The bell rang, and a tall woman entered, wearing a severe expression and an old-fashioned sort of black dress with very wide sleeves. Her slightly-greying black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her sharp grey eyes peered out from behind a pair of gold-framed spectacles. Jack didn't know her, but thought she seemed somewhat familiar. He supposed she must be a visitor from Bracksmeade.

'Good day, miss,' he said. 'Can I help you?'

'That remains to be seen, young man,' the woman sneered contemptuously. 'In any event, a common Muggle such as yourself ought to show more deference to your betters.' She didn't sound like she was from Bracksmeade, or anywhere nearby. She could have been a countess from her accent, and judging from the way she carried herself, that might be exactly what she was. What a countess would be doing in Little Hangleton, Jack didn't know. On the other hand, if he made a special effort to be polite to her, she might give him a nice tip...

'I beg your pardon, my lady,' he said quickly. 'My name's Jack Miller, and I am at Your Ladyship's service.'

A ghost of a smile flickered across the woman's face.

'Well, Miller, you at least seem to know your proper place,' she said. 'If there are more Muggles like you, then perhaps there is some hope for the world after all. Would you happen to know where I might find the former Gaunt residence?'

'I certainly do, my lady,' Jack replied. 'If Your Ladyship would be so gracious as to wait a few minutes whilst I close up shop, I'd be happy to take you there.'

'Excellent,' the lady replied in a haughty tone. Jack now was certain she must be a lady of very noble birth. 'I have to wait for my nephew to arrive anyway. He's been delayed by a meeting. He's a rather important man, you know, my late brother's only heir and the head of our family. He has many weighty responsibilities.'

Jack gulped. One aristocrat was more than enough for him to deal with in one day. Nonetheless, he summoned his strength and returned to his other customers. Mrs Robinson had just finished paying for her cat food – a process that took twice as long with all the curious glances she kept giving their visiting countess – when a good-looking man with long black hair and a goatee walked in, simultaneously whipping off his designer sunglasses with a single motion of his hand. He moved with a casual elegance that Jack immediately envied, and he dressed for coolness: a pair of jeans, leather boots, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'We're closing up shop for lunch.'

'It's quite all right, Miller,' Her Ladyship said. 'This is my nephew.'

That surprised Jack quite a bit. He hadn't expected someone who looked like some sort of film star. Fortunately, he managed to recover his composure quickly.

'I'm very sorry, Your Lordship,' he said respectfully. 'I didn't realise.'

His Lordship raised an eyebrow and glanced at his aunt.

'Isn't he' – Jack thought he heard 'it', but that couldn't be right – 'a polite Muggle?' Her Ladyship said. 'I was very impressed by his' – did she really say 'its'? – 'manners.'

'Indeed,' His Lordship replied wryly. 'He seems very polite.'

Once the nephew opened his mouth, any doubts Jack entertained about his identity were instantly dispelled. He sounded as though he belonged in Westminster, not Little Hangleton.

'Will he be taking us to the Gaunt hovel?' His Lordship went on.

Her Ladyship nodded.

'Excellent,' His Lordship replied. 'I'm anxious to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. I gave the boys a few...gifts before term, and they said they were planning to use them today.'

Jack supposed that Hogwarts must be the name of his country estate.

Her Ladyship pursed her lips disapprovingly. 'Only you, Sirius, would think of magic tricks at a time like this.'

His Lordship shrugged. 'I like to see the boys happy,' he said in a sober voice, and Jack thought he saw the older lady's expression soften momentarily.

A few minutes later, everything was locked up and Jack was leading his two exalted guests down the road to the old Gaunt shack. He had thought they would want to drive, the shack being quite far away, but Her Ladyship said that the weather was particularly fine, and she should like to walk. Surprisingly, Jack noticed that neither she nor her nephew seemed to have arrived into town by means of any vehicle at all – at least not that he could detect.

The shack was two or three miles from the shop, and as they drew closer to their destination, Jack was beginning to get winded. He wanted desperately to stop and have a bit of a rest, but it would have been too humiliating, especially since his two companions, both of whom were older than he, seemed to be managing the hike with no difficulties at all. In fact, they seemed quite rejuvenated by it.

Finally, when Jack's muscles were burning in furious protest and his lungs were refusing to take another breath, they reached the Gaunt shack.

'You have done well, Miller,' Her Ladyship said. 'You may leave us now.'

Jack went pale at the thought of walking all that way back, but he dared not contradict the woman. She was clearly a lady who was accustomed to be obeyed. He turned around and set off, but His Lordship called after him to stop. He pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and flipped it open. Jack's eyes went wide as His Lordship fished out a couple of hundred-pound notes and handed them over.

'I hope it's enough,' His Lordship said with an apologetic smile. 'I've always had rather a hard time figuring this stuff out. It hardly feels like real money.'

'M-much obliged, my lord,' Jack stammered as he backed away. 'Anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask.'

Once he'd got a respectable distance away, Jack sat down behind some bushes to take a break. He just couldn't walk all the way back to the shop without resting up a bit first. He felt like was about to pass out. On the other hand, he got two hundred quid out of the deal, so he wasn't that badly off.

He peeked through the leaves at his two mysterious visitors, who were standing in front of the shack and talking to each other in low voices. Her Ladyship drew a long stick out of her sleeve and raised it high above her head and cackled. With mounting horror, Jack remembered where he had seen her before. It was the woman he had seen attacking Riddle House on a broomstick that night. It was the Wicked Witch of the West.

He scrambled to his feet as she shouted something in what might have been Latin, and a bright burst of violet light came out of her stick and hit the shack. Jack ran back to the shop as fast as his legs could carry him, suddenly discovering, as is so often the case, that his legs and lungs had a good bit of fight left in them once they had the proper incentive.

* * *

Meanwhile, miles away from Little Hangleton, Abraxas Malfoy and Clytemnestra Black were entering a small cave by the seaside. Abraxas had his wand out, and Clytemnestra clutched a piece of parchment in her hands.

'It's too dark in here,' she muttered. 'I can't make it out.'

Abraxas chuckled. '_Lumos_,' he intoned, and suddenly the cave was quite bright.

'Thanks, Brax,' Clytemnestra said, giving her younger brother a smile, then looked back down at the parchment. 'The directions say to smear blood on the rock face over there.'

Abraxas looked over to where she was pointing and nodded. 'Did you bring the phial of blood?'

Clytemnestra pulled said phial from beneath her robes and handed it over.

'Are you sure this will work?' Abraxas asked, scrutinising the blood dubiously. 'I should have thought we'd have to cut ourselves.'

Clytemnestra sniffed. 'Don't ask me. I'm only a Squib. But Aries said it would work this way, and he's the one with supernatural access to the Dark Lord's memories.'

'Who am I to question Slytherin's Heir?' her brother replied drolly. He stepped over to the rock face and smeared all the blood over it.

'No, wait!' Clytemnestra shouted, but it was too late. The door appeared. Once they had passed through, Clytemnestra swatted Abraxas's shoulder.

'You idiot,' she snapped. 'You weren't supposed to use all of it now. How are we going to get back?'

Abraxas appeared nonplussed. 'I suppose we shall have to cut ourselves after all. It's fortunate that I brought my knife.'

'Don't expect me to join you, Abraxas Hippocrates Malfoy,' Clytemnestra muttered. 'I don't much care for the idea of getting cut. I might well faint.'

'Have no fear, Nestra,' her brother replied. 'I've more than enough blood for the both of us.'

They used the directions to locate the small boat and bring it to the surface. Harry had warned them that, though they would need two people to obtain the Horcrux, only one powerful wizard or witch could fit in the boat at a time. It was this feature of Voldemort's defences that had made Clytemnestra's presence so necessary. For the first time in her life, she was actually grateful to be a Squib.

Abraxas, ever the gentleman, helped his sister into the boat, then they floated across the lake. On the other side, they reached a small, rocky island, on which sat a large bowl, filled with a poisonous liquid. Abraxas handed his wand to his sister, pulled out a length of rope and tied himself to the pedestal on which the bowl rested, just as Harry had directed.

'This ought to make it a bit easier for you to keep me from plunging into the water,' he said ruefully as he tied the rope around his ample waist. 'I seem to be quite a bit stouter than I was in my youth.'

'Are you certain you wouldn't rather have me drink the poison?' Clytemnestra said anxiously. 'It would be easier for you to restrain me – I'm smaller, and you're stronger, not to mention you could use magic.'

'We've discussed this, Nestra,' Abraxas replied adamantly. 'The potion is very dangerous for wizards, but it might be fatal for Squibs. Have you the Elixir of Life?'

Clytemnestra nodded, holding up a small crystal phial.

'Very well, then.' Abraxas plunged a goblet into the bowl and raised it before his eyes. 'Aries and Draco,' he said solemnly, then drained it to the bottom.

As he continued to drink, Abraxas began alternately to shout angrily and to cry. He called out for his father and mother, for Iphigenia, for Regina, for Lucius. He called out for Aries and Draco, and Sirius as well. But most of all he called out for his sister, who stood beside him, gently stroking his back, just as she had done when they were children, whenever Abraxas was ill.

'Help me, Nestra,' he pleaded in a small voice as she forced yet another gobletful of the vile potion down his throat. 'I don't like it.'

'We're almost done,' she whispered in a soothing voice. 'Then we'll go home, and you'll be able to rest.'

When Abraxas had obediently drained all the liquid from the bowl, Clytemnestra snatched up the locket and thrust it into her pocket. Then she unstopped the Elixir of Life and poured it all into Abraxas's mouth. He immediately grew calm, but he was still less than helpful. She had to untie the rope herself, earning several blisters in the process, then help her brother into the boat. She perspired under the effort, but eventually she managed to pull the boat by its chain to the other side of the lake. She cut her hand with Abraxas's knife and wiped the blood on the wall. (She felt a bit light-headed, but she did not faint.) Only once they had safely left the cavern did she allow herself to collapse and catch her breath.

Her brother's breathing gradually returned to normal, and soon he recovered full awareness. He stood up and stretched.

'This is amazing!' he said. 'I actually feel better than I have in ages. My gout isn't bothering me at all, and my joints aren't squeaking. I feel as though I could run a marathon.'

Clytemnestra smiled weakly. 'It might do you some good.'

Her brother looked down at her with concern in his eyes.

'Are you all right, Nestra?' he asked anxiously.

'I'm fine,' she replied, handing him back his wand. 'I'm a tough old lady. I'll be perfectly all right once I've had a cup of tea and a nice, hot bath.'

Abraxas crouched down beside her. 'Thank you, Nestra,' he said quietly. 'I've never appreciated you enough, you know, but you're one fine witch.' He paused, furrowing his brow. 'I'd understand if you don't want to, but I've been thinking. It's been quite lonely at Malfoy Manor now that Narcissa's moved to Windermere Court. Would you, perhaps, care to come back home, to take up your rightful place as the mistress of Malfoy Manor?'

His sister's eyes glistened as she looked up at him. 'Thank you, Brax,' she said. 'I should like that very much.'

Abraxas grinned and held out his hand. His sister took it, and he helped her to his feet. After checking one last time to make sure they hadn't left anything behind – Clytemnestra had abandoned the rope, but they both agreed it wasn't worth the price of retrieval – they joined arms and Abraxas led his sister outside and Apparated them back to Windermere Court.

* * *

Late that evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, Harry and Draco slipped out of Gryffindor Tower under the Invisibility Cloak and made their way to Sirius's quarters. They had not had a particular productive day, as Bilius and Finnigan got themselves into detention at the last minute, and the boys' plans had been spoilt. They were disappointed, and not looking forward to telling their father that his gift had been wasted. When they reached their father's quarters, Sirius and Remus were both waiting for them inside, along with Aunt Cassie. On the dining room table lay a diadem, a locket and a ring.

Draco gasped. 'Are those what I think they are?'

'You lot have been busy today, haven't you?' Harry said with a smirk.

Sirius shrugged. 'We thought it might make a nice surprise.'

'Four Horcruxes down!' Draco said excitedly. 'That only leaves the cup in Aunt Bella's vault.'

Harry walked over to the table slowly. He could feel the faint hum of hidden power. Somehow, in a strange manner that he neither understood nor wished to understand, he had a connexion to these objects. They were akin to him, something of the same sort. Harry felt simultaneously disturbed and comforted to have them close by.

'How did you do it?' Draco asked.

'Aries had already given us very precise instructions,' Cassiopeia reminded him.

'True,' Harry replied. 'But I didn't expect you to go find all of them today. When did you get the diadem?'

'Moony found it during his free period,' Sirius explained.

'It wasn't at all difficult,' Remus said modestly. 'I just went to the room you told us about and there it was. No enchantments, no protections of any kind.'

Harry shook his head. 'As I said, Riddle thought he was the only one who had ever found the room.' He picked up the diadem and stroked it gently, resisting the urge to put it on and obtain the wisdom and knowledge it promised, even though he knew inexplicably that the diadem would not hurt him, at least, not the way it would hurt anyone else.

'It's a shame to destroy it,' he whispered.

Draco and Sirius both looked at him in shock.

'Harry, that thing holds a bit of Riddle's soul,' Sirius protested.

'Just remember what he did to you, to your parents,' Draco added.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I'm not talking about the Horcrux,' he said. 'I'm more than happy to kill off all of Riddle's remaining bits.'

Cassiopeia nodded in understanding. 'You're talking about the diadem.'

'Exactly.' Harry sighed. 'Such an amazing artefact, such wondrous power! It would be a waste just to blast it with Fiendfyre.'

'I suppose I can see your point,' Remus said, looking at the diadem with just a hint of longing in his eyes.

'Personally, I think you're all a bunch of nutters,' Sirius said. 'I say, let's just burn the lot of them and be done with them.'

'I'm with you, Dad,' Draco said, and Sirius proudly ruffled his hair.

Harry stood there, staring at the diadem contemplatively.

'What if there were a way to remove Voldemort's soul, whilst leaving the diadem and all its powers intact?' he mused aloud after a long pause.

'There is none,' Cassiopeia said matter-of-factly. 'There are very few substances that can destroy a Horcrux, and all of the readily accessible ones would obliterate the diadem as well.'

Harry grinned mischievously. 'What about the less accessible ones?'

Cassiopeia thought hard. 'I suppose, that if one were to inject the diadem with an infusion of basilisk venom, it might break the link between the soul fragment and the diadem.' She sniffed. 'But where would one come across basilisk venom? They are very rare creatures.'

Harry laughed. 'Let's just say that I know of an available basilisk who just might be persuaded to help us.'

'Where?' Cassiopeia demanded.

'In the Chamber of Secrets under the school,' Harry said nonchalantly. 'I think I'll go have a chat with him tomorrow, and see what he thinks.'

Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in a mixture of bewilderment and horror.

'What?' Harry stood back defensively. 'I'm the Heir of Slytherin, right? That's bound to be good for something.'

'You are not going to go have tea and biscuits with Slytherin's evil basilisk,' Sirius said firmly. 'I forbid it.'

'Come on, Dad,' Harry complained. 'It's the only way.'

'Watch the whinging,' his father replied automatically. 'Besides, it's against school rules, right, Moony?'

Remus shifted back and forth from foot to foot.

'Actually, Padfoot, I don't think there is any school rule that technically covers such a situation,' the werewolf replied. 'In fact, Harry could even argue that, as the Heir of Slytherin, the basilisk is his pet, which...'

Draco groaned. 'You're not going to bring that bloody thing home, are you, Aries?'

'Hell, no!' Sirius roared. 'He's not going within a hundred feet of it.'

Harry wanted to argue, but sensed that now was not the best time. He looked back at the table, deciding to ask about how they had retrieved the other Horcruxes, when something about the locket caught his eye. Something off.

He picked it up and held it in the light.

'Where did you find this?' he asked.

'Don't think you can change the subject so easily, young man,' Sirius began.

'No, Dad, honestly,' Harry insisted. 'There's something wrong. This isn't the Horcrux.'

'Impossible,' Cassiopeia replied. 'Abraxas and Clytemnestra found everything in the cave just the way you said.'

'Be that as it may,' Harry said evenly, 'this isn't the Horcrux. It's a fake.'

He popped it open, and a small, folded piece of parchment fell out. Draco picked it up and looked over it quickly.

'Dad,' he asked, 'do you know any Death Eaters with the initials R.A.B.?'


	50. Part II: Chapter 21

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Greetings, dear readers! This week has been quite a hectic one in real life - I had a bit of time to write early in the week, and then a few very solid days with virtually no free time. Alas, such is life.**

**Given the severe restrictions on my time at present, I'm afraid I shan't be able to catch up on my reviews. Thank you all for them. They are much appreciated! Instead, I shall begin responding to reviews from this chapter onward, and go back and respond only to those earlier reviews that ask a specific question. If you've asked a question that I've missed, feel free to PM me, and I'll try to get you an answer.**

**Oh, by the way, the text of Regulus's note comes from HBP, of course.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 21

Sirius blinked once, hard. He couldn't believe his ears. He blinked again.

'R.A.B.?' Cassiopeia repeated. 'But those are...'

Sirius cut her off with a single cold glare. At that moment he reminded Cassiopeia very strongly of his father, and she acquiesced without the slightest protest. Sirius reached his right hand out towards his son.

'Let me see that,' he commanded in a quiet voice. The temperature in his quarters had dropped dramatically. Draco nodded meekly and handed over the bit of parchment. Sirius held it up to the light to see it more clearly, and his face went deathly pale. He had no doubt it was Regulus's handwriting.

'What does it say, Padfoot?' Remus asked, his brow knitted in concern. He hadn't seen Sirius this upset since Harry's battle with Quirrell during his first year.

Sirius made no response. He only stood there, reading and re-reading the brief note. He felt the sting of hot tears in his eyes, but blinked them away. At last he dropped the note to the floor and stormed out of the room.

'What was that about?' Draco wondered aloud.

'I don't know,' his brother replied. He bent down and picked up the piece of parchment from the floor.

'What does it say?' Remus asked.

'To the Dark Lord,' Harry read. 'I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R. A. B.'

Remus glanced at Cassiopeia.

'Am I right in thinking those were Regulus's initials?' he asked quietly.

Cassiopeia nodded sadly. All blood had drained from her face. 'His middle name was Arcturus, after his grandfather.'

'Regulus?' Harry exclaimed. 'You mean Dad's brother?'

'That's right,' Remus confirmed. 'He joined the Death Eaters, but he died a couple of years before the war ended. Sirius always thought he must have got cold feet and chickened out.'

Draco snorted. 'It looks as though he got a bit more than cold feet. Do you think he actually managed to destroy the Horcrux?'

'There's no way we can know for certain,' Cassiopeia replied. 'Unless Regulus trusted someone else to help him in his quest.'

Harry frowned and looked at the door. 'Someone ought to go after Dad,' he said. 'He's not taking this well.'

Remus nodded and took a deep breath. 'I'll do it,' he volunteered. 'You boys head on to bed. We can decide what to do about the other Horcruxes later.'

Harry and Draco nodded and began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower, placing the locket and parchment back on the table as they went. Remus stopped them just before they left Sirius's quarters.

'May I borrow the Map?' he asked.

Harry nodded wordlessly and handed it over. Remus thanked him, and the boys returned to their dormitory.

'I suppose you'll be going back to Windermere Court,' Remus said to Cassiopeia. The witch nodded.

'There's little reason for me to stay here,' she said. 'Keep me informed on any new developments. I shall begin an investigation to determine whether poor Regulus had any accomplices.'

Remus helped her fasten her travelling cloak, and she Flooed back home. Once she had left, he spread the Marauder's Map on the table. It only took him a moment to find Sirius. He was pacing back and forth on top of the Astronomy Tower. Remus smiled fondly. The tower had always been one of his friend's favourite haunts as a boy. It was nice to see that some things didn't change.

* * *

Sirius walked around in a figure eight, his feet tracing a well-worn pattern as his eyes looked up at the stars. It was a clear night, and the constellations shone brightly, watching over him as so many familiar friends. His thoughts flashed back to another night, some fifteen years before.

_It was late at night, and rain beat furiously against the windows. James had married Lily just a month before, and Sirius was not yet used to being all alone in his flat. He sat on the sofa, sipping a glass of firewhisky and listening to music over the wireless. Merlin, how he hated being alone!_

_Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a loud pounding on the door. Sirius groaned and rose to his feet, setting his glass on the table as he walked to the door. Part of him thought hopefully that perhaps Prongs had got into an argument with Lily, and she had kicked him out. The better part of him scolded himself for entertaining such an awful fantasy. Perhaps it was Moony, or Wormtail. Sirius couldn't think of anyone else who would come to his flat in the middle of the night._

_He opened the door, and his face instantly twisted into a scowl. It was no one he wanted to see. It was his brother Regulus, and he was drenched from head to toe._

_'What do you want?' Sirius snarled. 'Have a message for me from your Death Eater friends?'_

_Regulus shook his head sombrely._

_'Can I come in?' he asked in a timid voice._

_Sirius narrowed his eyes. 'Why would I let you? I don't want your kind of scum in my home.'_

_'Please, Sirius,' Regulus insisted, giving Sirius that look, the one he had never been able to refuse. Sirius sighed and motioned for his brother to come in._

_All appearances to the contrary, the Black brothers cared about each other immensely. Before Hogwarts, they had been inseparable, their games and fantasies providing them a common refuge from the difficulties of growing up in a home with their domineering, manipulative and emotionally-abusive mother and their highly-critical, relentlessly-demanding and emotionally-absent father. They grew slowly apart over the years, but they continued to care about each other, though they could also fight like cats and dogs. Sirius kept an eye on his brother at Hogwarts, and was known to exact nasty revenge if anyone but him picked on Regulus. For his part, Regulus tried to play the role of mediator between Sirius and the rest of the family, with little success._

_Their relationship didn't really sour until Sirius ran away from home at age sixteen, and it finally fell apart when Regulus joined the Death Eaters a couple of years later. Both brothers felt that the other had betrayed them, and they spoke sporadically after that, and then mostly to exchange vicious barbs. In the end, however, they were still brothers, and that mattered to both of them immensely._

_Sirius cast a drying charm over Regulus and gestured for him to sit down on the sofa._

_'Thanks,' Regulus muttered._

_'Can't have you dripping all over my clean carpet,' Sirius replied. He snorted. 'I'm surprised you didn't do it yourself. I'd have thought even you were a strong enough wizard to manage that.'_

_Regulus did not take the bait. He sat there on the sofa, looking down at his shoes._

_'I need your help, Sirius,' he said._

_Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'I beg your pardon?'_

_'I need your help,' Regulus repeated._

_'What for? Going Muggle-hunting with the Lestrange brothers and need a fourth person?'_

_Regulus frowned. 'Sirius, this is important.'_

_Sirius scrutinised his brother carefully. Regulus did seem unusually out-of-sorts._

_'What is it?' he asked._

_'It's the Dark Lord,' Regulus said quietly. 'He wanted me to do something...but...' His voice trailed off._

_'Go on,' Sirius urged._

_'It's just not right,' Regulus went on. 'It's too horrible even to imagine.'_

_'Of course it is,' Sirius replied harshly. 'You work for bloody Voldemort. You ought to have considered that before you decided to join the effing Death Eaters.'_

_'I don't know that I want to be a Death Eater anymore,' Regulus whispered._

_'Then leave,' Sirius said flippantly._

_'Where would I go?'_

_Sirius thought about that. 'Well, I'm sure the Order...'_

_'Just because I don't want to serve the Dark Lord anymore doesn't mean I want to have anything to do with that Muggle-loving old fool and his merry band of blood traitors!' Regulus snapped._

_'So your views haven't really changed then,' Sirius observed coolly. 'You still think Voldemort has the right idea, you just don't like how far he's willing to go.' He snorted angrily. 'You're no better than Mum and Dad.'_

_Regulus stood up. 'It was a mistake coming here,' he said. 'I had thought you could help me. I was wrong.'_

_Sirius frowned. 'if you don't want the Order involved, how could I possibly help you?' he asked._

_His younger brother looked him intensely in the eyes._

_'Come with me, Sirius,' he said pleadingly. 'You can help me finish this one thing I have to do, and then we can run off together.'_

_'What is it you have to do?' Sirius asked._

_Regulus shook his head. 'I don't want to say. It's too risky. He might find out.'_

_Sirius shook his head at his brother's cowardice._

_'Come with me, Sirius,' Regulus repeated. 'I'll explain everything on the way. Then we can leave, just the two of us. We can go to France, or Transylvania. Hell, we can take Uncle Alphard's gold and run off to America if you like.'_

_Sirius would have been lying if he had claimed that he was not sorely tempted by the offer. Life hadn't been quite the same for him in England ever since his best friend got married. He rather liked the idea of getting away from it all for a bit. It would also give him a chance to get reacquainted with his brother, whom he had missed._

_But he couldn't leave James. He might be spending all his time with Lily for now, but he had just got back from his honeymoon. James still needed Sirius, and Sirius would be damned if he abandoned his best friend in a time of war, just so he could go have an adventure with his brother. He shook his head._

_'I can't, Reg,' he said, and the disappointment in his voice was real. 'I have responsibilities here. The Order, my friends.'_

_In the twinkling of an eye, Regulus's expression changed from hopeful to deadly cold._

_'It's James bloody Potter, isn't it?' Regulus snapped. Sirius didn't have to answer; his eyes gave him away. 'You've been on about him ever since you met him,' Regulus went on. 'I swear to Merlin, it's like you think he hung the bloody moon.'_

_'James is my best friend,' Sirius said defensively. 'If you had actual friends, you might understand what that means.'_

_'Best friend?' Regulus was incredulous. 'You care more about him than you do any of your family.'_

_'James is more my family than anyone else,' Sirius replied. 'He'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for him.'_

_'Merlin, it's like you're in love with the fellow,' Regulus said, rolling his eyes._

_'Don't be ridiculous,' Sirius shot back. 'I'm not in love with him.'_

_'That's good,' Regulus replied lazily. 'It would be too embarrassing for the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to be tossed aside in favour of some Mudblood whore.'_

_'GET OUT!' Sirius roared at the top of his lungs, his face turning bright red. 'I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!'_

_Regulus turned on his heel and left without another word. Sirius watched him leave, then cast a Blasting Curse at a vase sitting on the dining room table. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and bits of flowers flew everywhere._

_'Damn fool,' Sirius muttered beneath his breath._

_A week later, when Order spies brought word of Regulus's death, Sirius assumed that the idiot had tried to run away on his own, only to be caught by Voldemort. He tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing, but James saw through his act at once. He took Sirius to their favourite pub and they both got totally pissed. They sat up late into the night talking about Regulus. Sirius kept on about what an idiot Regulus was, but goodhearted James, even at his most drunk, kept finding good memories to share._

_'At least he left Voldemort in the end, mate,' he said, trying to comfort his friend. 'Even if it was only because he was a coward. What else could you expect? He was a Slytherin.'_

_Sirius and James dragged each other back to James's house at three in the morning. Lily shook her head disapprovingly when she saw the state her husband was in, but she said nothing about it. She even offered to let Sirius spend the night._

_'It's not safe for you to Apparate in your condition,' she warned._

_'It's all right, Lily,' Sirius mumbled. 'I'll just fly my motorcycle home.'_

_Fortunately, there are very few motorcycles, cars or pedestrians in the air at three o'clock in the morning, so Sirius's wild swerves didn't cause too much damage – though a couple of trees lost their tops. Sirius eventually reached his flat and staggered into bed. Briefly, before he passed out, the thought came to him, the one horrible truth that he had been avoiding all night._

_If he had gone with Regulus, Voldemort might never have caught up with him. Sirius had killed his own baby brother._

Back in the present day, that thought ate away at Sirius like a cancer as he paced on top of the Astronomy Tower. But now it was worse. Now Sirius knew that his brother was not in fact a coward who had wished to avoid the consequences of his poor decisions, but rather a hero who had given his life to destroy one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He had come to Sirius for help, but Sirius hadn't been listening clearly. He had been too caught up in his own anger and bitterness to help his brother when it mattered.

Sirius stopped pacing and looked up at the half moon. Was he fated to kill those he cared about? He'd killed James. It was his fault that the Potters had made Wormtail their Secret Keeper, his fault that Voldemort had learnt of their hiding place. He'd killed Regulus too. Who else would he end up killing? Harry? Draco? Cissy? Remus?

Sirius heard the trapdoor open behind him. He didn't turn around. He knew it would be Remus. He appreciated how much his friend cared, but still it hurt. Before it would have been James.

'Thanks, Moony,' he mumbled. 'But I'd rather be alone for a bit.'

'Rubbish,' Remus retorted as he closed the trapdoor. 'You hate being alone.' The werewolf walked over and put his hand on Sirius's shoulder. 'How are you holding up?'

Sirius snorted testily. 'I just found out my idiot brother was really a bloody hero, Moony. How do you think I'm handling it?'

Remus raised an eyebrow in reply. 'I should have thought that you'd be pleased to learn that Regulus did the right thing in the end.'

'I suppose I am,' Sirius said with a shrug. He went to the edge of the tower and sat on the stone wall. 'I only wish I'd been able to help him.'

'There's nothing you could have done,' Remus assured him. 'It isn't as though he asked for your help.'

Sirius gave a hollow laugh. 'Right.'

'Focus on the positive,' Remus went on. 'Regulus died a hero. You can honour his memory by finishing what he began.'

Sirius supposed Remus did have a point there. He might have failed to give Regulus the help he had asked for at the time, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to make up for it now. In any event, if he failed to destroy the Horcruxes, Regulus would have died in vain. Sirius sighed.

'You're right, Moony,' he said quietly. 'I've a fraternal duty to perform.'

'That's the way to look at it,' Remus encouraged him. 'Now, why don't you have a nice hot bath, then go to bed. We'll take on the Horcruxes in the morning.'

Sirius's grey eyes glinted dangerously.

'I'm not tired, Moony,' he said quietly. 'In fact, I think I shall fulfil my fraternal duty right this moment.' He strode determinedly towards the trapdoor.

'Wait!' Remus protested. 'You can't destroy the Horcruxes yet. What about Aries' plan?'

'To hell with Aries' plan,' Sirius retorted. He threw open the trapdoor and made his way down.

'But what about the diadem?' Remus went on, following his friend down the stairs. 'Think of what we could learn if we made use of its powers!'

'I don't give a rat's arse about the diadem, or its bloody powers!' Sirius replied. 'I'm putting an end to this threat once and for all.'

'Aries won't like it,' Remus muttered beneath his breath. Sirius twirled around furiously.

'Tough shit,' he snapped. 'I don't care if he's Slytherin's True Heir, or what special powers he's got. He's my thirteen-year-old son, and it's my job to do what I think is best for him. As far as I'm concerned, if he never sees another Horcrux, it will be far too soon.'

Remus froze in the face of Sirius's wrath, then nodded once.

'You're quite right, Padfoot,' he said crisply. 'Do your worst.'

Sirius's robes billowed behind him as he strode through the corridors back to his quarters, Remus following on his heels. The painting obediently swung open in response to Sirius's password, and he went straight for the dining room. The diadem and the ring still lay on the dining room table, along with the fake locket and Regulus's note. Sirius swept up the locket and the note and thrust them into his pocket. Meanwhile, Remus extinguished the ordinary flames burning in the fireplace. Sirius picked up the two Horcruxes and placed them on top of the pile of ashes.

'Stand back,' he commanded, and Remus obediently took several steps backwards.

Sirius raised his wand and aimed it at the fireplace.

'_Inimicapyro_,' he growled, and violent flames burst from the tip of his wand, utterly consuming the entire contents of the fireplace: diadem, ring, grate and all. The two wizards stood there staring for several minutes as exotic shapes danced in the Fiendfyre. When it finally died down, not even ashes remained.


	51. Part II: Chapter 22

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: So much for a regular schedule! Last week was extraordinarily busy, and on top of that, my wife and son were sick. I must warn you that this will be my last update before Easter. The good news is that after Easter I'm expecting my schedule to calm down a good bit. Hopefully that will translate into more regular updates! Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 22

The next day was a Saturday, and Harry awoke exceptionally early. Wood, Quidditch-mad as always, had scheduled a practice for the very break of dawn. Harry dressed quickly and washed his face before grabbing his Firebolt and heading downstairs. He felt odd that morning – almost naked, and a bit chilly, rather like someone with very long, thick hair who has recently had it all shorn off. He couldn't imagine what could cause such a feeling, and wondered whether he was getting ill. He brushed it off with a shake of his head and made his way to the Quidditch pitch.

Practice went reasonably well, though Harry's mind wasn't on the game. Wood yelled at him a couple of times, but most of his ire was reserved for the Weasley twins, who seemed to be drifting off to sleep on their broomsticks. After practice, Harry washed up and went to the Great Hall, where Draco and Dean were almost finished with breakfast. Harry heaped bacon, eggs and tomatoes on his plate and demolished them in moments. He had already finished his second plate and drained his third goblet of pumpkin juice when Draco rose from the table, so he got up to join him. The blond boy seemed somewhat amused.

'Hungry, Aries?' he asked wryly as the two made their way to Sirius's quarters.

'Not at all,' Harry replied. 'I feel quite satisfied, thank you.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'You know what I mean.'

'I do, indeed,' Harry said. 'And I _was_ rather hungry before breakfast. But that's only to be expected when one is a growing boy and has just returned from an intense Quidditch practice.'

Harry walked twice as fast as he usually did, and his brother struggled to keep up. He wanted very much to visit the Chamber of Secrets that day, and perhaps to take care of the Horcruxes before his cooking lesson with Daphne that evening. He was particularly eager to discover the secrets of Ravenclaw's diadem, and wondered momentarily whether, with such a resource at his disposal, it would even be worth it for him to continue his studies at Hogwarts. He dismissed these thoughts as quickly as they had come. The point of school was not to learn; he could do that well enough on his own. The point of Hogwarts – as his dad had so wisely pointed out on more than one occasion – was to have a good time.

'_Jamais pur_,' Harry said when they reached the large painting. He smiled a bit when he saw the figure of Athena standing tall. He thought it rather appropriate that the image of the goddess of wisdom should stand watch over the most powerful source of wisdom the world had ever known, after the Philosopher's Stone.

The painting swung open and the boys entered the suite. Judging by the heavy breathing coming from the bedroom, Sirius was still asleep.

Draco snorted. 'Figures. I wondered why he wasn't at breakfast.'

Harry chuckled. 'Dad's never been an early riser.'

'Early riser? It's nearly ten o'clock!'

Harry shrugged and walked into the dining room. The Horcruxes no longer lay on the table. He frowned and looked around. In fact, they could not be seen anywhere.

'Where are the Horcruxes?' Draco asked, expressing aloud the question that troubled Harry's mind. 'Do you think he moved them somewhere?'

Harry supposed that was a possibility, but it didn't feel right. The night before, he had sensed the Horcruxes' presence as soon as he walked into the room. He didn't feel them anymore...at all. Harry realised with a terrible flash of insight why exactly he had been feeling so oddly empty all day.

'Damn him,' he cursed beneath his breath. 'I can't believe he'd do something like this.'

Draco was confused. 'What are you on about?' he asked.

'Dad destroyed the Horcruxes last night after we left,' Harry replied.

'How do you know that?'

'I just do,' Harry snapped. 'I can feel it.' His eyes darted to the empty fireplace. That must have been where Sirius did it. Harry walked over and knelt on the stone floor beside the fireplace. Sure enough, the stones were covered with the thick purplish-black soot that only Fiendfyre could leave behind. He ran his fingers over the soot and rubbed them together. A tingle ran up his spine, and Harry felt hot, angry tears rising to his eyes. Even the soot felt charged with power. What a terrible waste!

'Bastard,' he muttered. 'Reckless, stupid idiot.'

Just then, the idiot in question came out of his bedroom, wearing his pyjamas and a bathrobe. Judging by the confused look on his face, he was still not completely awake. He half-grinned at the sight of his sons.

'Good morning, boys,' he yawned.

It felt like a volcano erupted deep inside Harry.

'HOW COULD YOU?' he roared. 'Of all the stupid, foolish, reckless, idiotic, moronic, brainless...'

Sirius stopped cold and raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'What the hell's got into you?' he asked.

'What's got into _me_?' Harry repeated incredulously. 'Why don't we talk about what's got into you? Why did you destroy the Horcruxes last night?'

Sirius frowned. 'How did you know about that?' he asked.

'It doesn't matter,' Harry said dismissively. 'Why did you destroy them?'

'Because they're monstrously evil, perhaps?' Sirius replied in a falsely casual tone. 'Or because they're the only things keeping the most feared Dark wizard of modern times from receiving his everlasting reward? Or maybe because that same wizard is responsible for the deaths of my best friend and his wife, my brother, my great-uncle, and numerous other innocent people, and has attacked both of my sons?'

'I know all that,' Harry replied. 'Of course they need to be destroyed, but couldn't you have waited?' He gritted his teeth in frustration. 'Think of all the ways the diadem could have helped us! And we hadn't even begun to discover the powers of the ring. We could have saved them.'

'Riddle corrupted the bloody things when he made them Horcruxes,' Sirius said adamantly. 'I don't believe you could have destroyed the Horcruxes without destroying the vessels.'

'Well, now we'll never know, shall we?' Harry retorted. His face was turning red. Draco decided to step in and try to defuse the situation.

'You said you could feel that the Horcruxes had been destroyed,' he said. 'So how did that work?'

'I've felt oddly empty all day,' Harry replied. 'Like something was missing.'

Sirius's face turned very white for a moment, then his jaw set in determination.

'Now I know I made the right decision,' he said firmly. 'You're not going near any of the Horcruxes ever again.'

'WHAT?' Harry shouted. 'How the hell are you going to destroy them without me?'

'You've given us enough information,' Sirius said. 'The adults can take it from here. I don't like this connexion you have with Riddle.'

'Like it or not, I have it,' Harry replied. 'I'm the only one who can destroy him.'

'You've done enough,' Sirius repeated hotly. 'You're still a child. From now on, I expect you and Draco to be normal boys. It's not right for you to feel like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I've half a mind to put an end to your special training.'

Draco winced. This was not going well at all.

'You can't do that!' Harry protested. 'I've got to be ready to face him.'

'You're never going to face him again!' Sirius shot back. 'Not if we have to spend the rest of our lives holed up in bloody Transylvania!'

'But what about the prophecy?' Harry dem0anded.

'I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE EFFING PROPHECY!' Sirius roared, fire flashing in his grey eyes. Sirius was a very gifted wizard, though many people failed to realise it, inasmuch as he usually cloaked his potential beneath a facade of leather jackets, sunglasses, sports cars and prank wars. For an instant, however, the boys could feel magical power rolling off of him in waves. Both Harry and Draco actually felt a bit frightened, which was not an emotion they normally associated with being around their dad. Fortunately, Sirius noticed their distress and calmed himself quickly. 'I don't care about the prophecy,' he repeated quietly. 'I care about you, and about keeping you safe.'

Harry snorted, almost immediately recovering his composure. After all, he was a very powerful wizard as well, and a Gryffindor to boot. He didn't frighten easily.

'What if I don't want to be kept safe?' he asked cheekily.

'Too bad,' Sirius replied. 'I'll do it anyway. That's my job.'

Harry spun around on his heel and marched out of Sirius's quarters.

'_Bonne chance!_' he called over his shoulder.

_'Merde_,' his dad muttered as he turned around and made his way back into his bedroom. 'What am I ever to do with that kid?'

He grabbed a towel and stormed off into the bathroom, and soon steam was pouring out the door. Draco, having tried very hard not to take sides, was conveniently forgotten by both. He carefully tiptoed out through the painting, then returned to Gryffindor Tower, wondering whether Dean, Lee, Fred and George might be in the mood for a game of Exploding Snap.

* * *

'The nerve of him!' Harry growled. 'At least he could have told me what he was planning on doing.'

Daphne stood over the stove, stirring a large pot of tomato sauce. Harry had been complaining to her about Sirius all evening. He couldn't tell her all the details, of course, so he had invented a bit.

'Perhaps he didn't want to argue with you about it,' she suggested helpfully.

Harry frowned. 'That's not like him. Usually he listens to whatever I have to say.'

'Well, you did say it was a snap decision on his part,' Daphne reminded him. 'From what you've told me, that is very much in character for Mr Black.'

'It is,' Harry admitted. 'I just don't see why he had to go all mental over these family heirlooms of all things. It's a tragedy, really.'

He stuck a spoon into the sauce and tasted it.

'You need to add more salt,' he said.

'But I already put in the amount called for in the recipe,' Daphne protested.

Harry set his jaw in frustration. 'But the taste is off,' he replied in a tense voice. 'Always go by your senses. If it tastes like it needs more salt, it does.'

Daphne sighed and picked up the salt, but her hand slipped as she was adding it, and she poured in far more than she needed to.

'Watch it!' Harry snapped. 'What have I told you before? Always measure the salt in your hand before adding it in. Now you've ruined the sauce!'

Daphne set down the salt and turned around, fixing Harry in an icy glare.

'You listen to me, Aries Sirius Black,' she said quietly. 'I understand that you're upset with your dad right now. I'll even listen to your whinging all night if you want me to. But I will not put up with you taking your anger out on me. Is that clear?'

Harry visibly deflated.

'I'm sorry, Daphne,' he mumbled. 'You're right. I oughtn't to take my frustration out on you.' He gave her a winning grin, and the girl's expression softened instantly. 'Shall we return to our cooking lesson?' Harry offered. 'I promise to shut up about what a berk my father is being at the moment.'

Daphne giggled. 'All right,' she said. She looked down at the pot ruefully. 'And I really am sorry about the salt. I don't suppose there's anything we can do to fix the sauce?'

Harry drew his wand with his right hand and grabbed an empty bowl with his left.

'Now, Miss Greengrass,' he said, 'you're about to witness one of the great advantages of being a wizarding cook.'

He pointed his wand at the pot and muttered an incantation. Countless tiny particles flew out of the soup and into the empty bowl. Soon a perfect mound of pure salt lay inside.

'The spell isn't perfect,' Harry said apologetically. 'It won't remove all the salt, so we'll have to salt the sauce by taste. There also aren't many Potions ingredients it will work on. It seems, however, that over-salting was a persistent enough problem that some magical cook invented a spell to counteract it.'

Daphne stared at the salt in the bowl, then swatted the back of Harry's head.

'Ouch!' he exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot with his hand. 'What was that for?'

'For scolding me so harshly over spoiling the sauce when you knew all along there was a way to fix it,' Daphne replied primly. 'Black heir or not, I shan't put up with such behaviour from you, Aries. You of all people ought to know how to act in a more gentlemanly fashion.'

Harry made a slight bow, conceding the point.

'I beg your pardon, Miss Greengrass,' he said. 'Now, would you like to begin adding the salt?'

This time, Daphne was very careful to measure the salt in her hand before adding it to the pot, and also to taste the sauce intermittently. When the tomato sauce was done, and she served it over spaghetti, Harry pronounced it perfect.

* * *

That same evening, whilst Harry and Daphne were exploring the forbidden delights of tomato sauce and noodles in the kitchens, Draco stood alone in an abandoned classroom, playing his violin. He and Harry had been avoiding each other diligently all day, ever since the fight with Sirius. They both knew that Draco would approve of Sirius's decision, and that Harry would view this as a betrayal. Rather than confront the unpleasant issue, it was far simpler, if rather boring, for them just to spend the day apart.

This was hardly the first time such awkwardness had arisen. In a family whose members possessed hot tempers and held long grudges, it was a matter of survival for one to learn to savour one's time alone. At tense family occasions such funerals, or Christmas, Harry and Draco had often enjoyed the opportunity to slip off and play duets together. Playing the violin alone without the piano accompaniment was not quite as fun, Draco had to admit, but it was still soothing, and helped one to remember that there was more to the world than petty arguments over Horcruxes.

Draco launched into his favourite violin solo, an intricate piece that he didn't get to practise too often, since it reminded Harry of Uncle Marius. He was so caught up in the leaps and trills that he didn't notice Remus enter the room. He was startled when he finished and the werewolf broke into applause.

'Professor Lupin!' Draco exclaimed. 'I didn't see you there.'

Remus chuckled. 'It wouldn't be the first time I managed to sneak up on a student. And it's Uncle Moony when we're alone, remember?'

'Sorry,' Draco said sheepishly. 'It's easy to forget.'

'You're very good,' Remus observed, gesturing towards Draco's violin. 'I used to play when I was younger, but I quit practising once I started Hogwarts.'

Draco shrugged. 'It's a nice way to relax.'

'Indeed.' Remus paused. 'You wouldn't happen to know where your dad's been all day, would you?'

Draco shook his head. 'I didn't even know he had left.'

'What about your other half? I'm not used to seeing you two apart.'

'Don't know,' Draco replied. 'I haven't seen either of them since they had their big fight this morning.'

Remus's eyes widened in surprise. He clearly hadn't heard about the fight. He cast a quick Silencing Charm before asking for more details.

'It was over the Horcruxes, wasn't it?'

Draco nodded.

Remus sighed. 'I can see your brother's point. Merlin knows I'd love to get my hands on Ravenclaw's diadem. Who knows what sort of things we could come up with?'

Draco smirked. 'Such as a cure for lycanthropy, perhaps?'

Remus reached over and ruffled the boy's blond hair.

'You're entirely too clever for your own good, Mr Malfoy-Black,' he said fondly. 'So I take it Aries didn't take it well?'

'To put it mildly,' Draco replied with a grimace. 'He called Dad a stupid, reckless idiot, and then revealed that he was somehow able to feel when the Horcruxes were destroyed through his connexion with Riddle.'

'I'll bet Sirius loved that,' Remus said drily.

'He lost it,' Draco said. 'He said that Aries was never going near any of the Horcruxes again, then he threatened to call off all our special training.'

Remus smacked his forehead. 'I'm not sure if I want to know this, but how did it end?'

'Well, Aries reminded Dad about the prophecy that he was the one who could defeat Riddle,' Draco went on. 'Then Dad said he didn't care about the "effing prophecy", and that Aries wasn't going to face Riddle again, even if he had to lock us up in the castle in Transylvania.'

'Ordinarily I'd take points off for language,' Remus inserted, 'but in this case I know it's only accuracy in reporting.'

Draco nodded. 'Anyway, Dad said he would do anything to keep Aries safe, then Aries wished him good luck and stormed off.'

Remus shook his head sadly. 'Honestly, that boy is so much like his father.'

'Which one?' Draco asked wryly.

Remus chuckled. 'Take your pick. They were both of them stubborn and pigheaded.'

'Well, that sounds like our Aries all right,' Draco agreed. 'For a ram, he's always acted a lot more like a mule.'

'I hope neither of them does anything rash,' Remus said.

Draco laughed mirthlessly. 'If wishes were horses, Uncle Moony.'

'Let me rephrase that,' Remus said sadly. 'I hope they come back safely from whatever reckless escapades they're up to.'

* * *

Sirius, in fact, had spent the day at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, doing his best to search through all of Regulus's old things for even a hint of what might have happened to the Horcrux. He'd had very little luck, but he mostly blamed that on his great-aunt. Who could possibly be expected to focus on a search whilst simultaneously enduring a tongue-lashing from Cassiopeia Virgo Black?

She had obviously been most displeased when she had learnt what Sirius had done the night before. She had hoped to harness the powers of the diadem just as much as Harry had, perhaps even more. She graciously refrained from hexing Sirius as punishment, but in return he was forced to submit to a lecture that made his mother's cruellest tirades seem like gentle lullabies in comparison.

He sat on the floor of Regulus's room, flipping through a few of his brother's journals. He laughed at one entry in which Regulus vented about a prank Sirius had played on him, then winced at the description of the fight they had afterwards. He turned the page to find the list of presents Regulus planned to buy for Christmas: a watch for their father, a brooch for their mother, a set of magic tricks for Sirius, a fruitcake for Kreacher. Sirius shook his head at that last one. Regulus had always had a strange affection for the horrid old elf, and Kreacher had worshipped his young master in return.

Suddenly it hit him like a load of heavy bricks. Kreacher. If there was one person in the world Regulus would trust to help him it would be Kreacher.

Sirius jumped to his feet and headed downstairs. Finally he had a proper place to begin his search.

* * *

After escorting Daphne back to her dormitory just before curfew that night, Harry slipped out his Invisibility Cloak and went on a little excursion. If Sirius thought he wasn't old enough or powerful enough to defeat Voldemort, then he simply had to demonstrate his skills. And what better way for a young wizard to showcase his considerable talents than to apply them to accomplishing a seemingly impossible feat? And what feat could possibly be more difficult than taming the King of Serpents?


	52. Part II: Chapter 23

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I have returned! I hope you all had a wonderful Easter, and are ready to enjoy some more adventures of our plucky protagonist. The next update will be on Friday, May 6. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 23

Sirius came upon Kreacher scrubbing the kitchen floor. He had always hated the miserable old elf, though he had to admit that his behaviour had changed for the better in recent years. Kreacher never spoke ill of his master, nor gave any indication that he thought poorly of him. Sirius had at first thought that the old bastard had perhaps had a real change of heart, but then Cassiopeia had explained how Pollux had strictly commanded the elf to honour Sirius wholeheartedly, and Kreacher had no choice but to obey. Strange how elf magic worked.

When Kreacher noticed that Sirius had come into the room, he stopped his work, turned around and bowed very low.

'How may Kreacher serve his kind and merciful master?' the elf droned in a monotone that betrayed no real feeling. 'Is good Master hungry, perhaps?' The elf continued in a loud whisper that the foul creature clearly thought was inaudible to all but himself. 'Mistress hated brave and heroic Master, said he was no son of hers, but Master Pollux commanded Kreacher to think and speak only good of his excellent, virtuous, powerful, handsome master, and Kreacher is an obedient elf, even when his munificent, generous, thrice-blessed master does not appreciate him or even deserve...' Kreacher broke off his muttering and began to bash his head against the stone floor. Clearly he had a hard time fulfilling Pollux's orders.

Sirius was torn between amusement and repulsion at the elf's actions, but ultimately his better part prevailed, and he half-heartedly commanded Kreacher to stop abusing himself. The elf complied instantly.

'Kreacher, I've come to talk to you about Master Regulus,' Sirius began, and his late brother's name was enough to launch the elf into a wave of worshipful ecstasy.

'Master Regulus was a great and good wizard,' he intoned in a reverent whisper. 'A worthy scion of his noble and ancient family. He was the joy of his father's eyes and the delight of his mother's heart.'

'Yes, yes,' Sirius snapped impatiently. 'I've come about his locket.'

Kreacher froze and turned very pale. 'Master Regulus's locket, sir?'

'That's right,' Sirius replied. 'Master Regulus came to me before he died and asked for my help in his mission. I intend to finish what he started. Do you know where to find the locket that he took from the cave? I need to destroy it.'

Kreacher dissolved in tears, and began bashing himself against the wall until Sirius told him once again to stop, and forbade him from punishing himself any further until they had completed their conversation.

'Master Regulus commanded Kreacher to destroy it,' he sobbed. 'Kreacher did everything he knew, but nothing worked. The locket was protected by powerful magic Kreacher was not understanding. Kreacher punished himself, and tried again. Over and over, but Kreacher failed to carry out his master's orders.'

Sirius was not a cruel man, nor did he harbour any particular hatred for house elves in general. Some, such as Mopsy, he quite liked. Others, such as Roquefort, he appreciated for their utility, but never much thought of when he didn't need them. However, he had always had a deep loathing for Kreacher, a loathing that was all the more deeply rooted because Sirius knew the elf reciprocated it in full. When Sirius was a young child, Kreacher had been the enforcer of his mother's will, the tattle-tale who went running to his mistress whenever Sirius placed a toe out of line. He had faithfully served Walburga Black since her own days in the cradle, and, as so often happens with lonely, isolated mistresses and their devoted servants, she had favoured him with a degree of intimacy and trust that she afforded no wizard or witch. When she had finally become, after much plotting and scheming on her part, mistress of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, she had promptly decapitated Kreacher's mother and placed the house completely under the elf's capable charge. He had wasted no time in imprinting the house with his beloved mistress's character and style, and soon everyone had learnt that to defy Kreacher was to defy Walburga Black, something that even her husband never dared to do. Kreacher, more even than most house elves, had transformed himself into a simple extension of his mistress's will, and Sirius had never made much of an effort to distinguish between the two.

But now, as the old elf sat weeping on the stone floor, mourning his dead master and the mission he had failed to accomplish, for the first time Sirius managed to see Kreacher as someone with feelings of his own. He would never like Kreacher – they had far too much history betwixt them for that ever to happen – but he could and did feel the first stirrings of pity towards him. In one way, at least, Kreacher was not all that different from Sirius himself: they had both lost everything they held dear.

'Kreacher,' Sirius said softly. 'Bring me the locket. I have a way to destroy it forever, and you will be able to fulfil Master Regulus's last orders.'

Kreacher looked up at his master dubiously. For his part, the elf had despised his mistress's eldest son from the beginning. Walburga's first labour had not been an easy one – she had the Healer put her to sleep for the second, whilst neither she nor Orion had any desire for a third – and Kreacher had been angry with the baby for the pain it had caused his dear mistress. Sirius had gone on to take so very much of her time and attention, and Kreacher had grown quite envious of the boy. Then the child had proven manifestly unworthy of his mother's love, a disappointment to the entire family, and Kreacher had hated him for dishonouring his birthright and disgracing the beautiful witch who had given him life.

But Master Regulus, the kind and dutiful boy who held a place in Kreacher's heart next to Walburga's own, had devoted his short life to becoming everything a Black was meant to be, and had been rewarded for his efforts with his mother's distant affection and his father's vague approval. Kreacher, however, had loved the boy passionately from his cradle, and lavished on his young master all of the considerable adoration of which a house elf is capable. When Master Regulus had asked for Kreacher's help, the elf had been honoured to obey him, and when the young wizard had given his own life in Kreacher's stead, the elf had devoted all his energy to carrying out his master's final command. His failure in this regard weighed heavily on the poor creature's conscience, and, suspect Master Sirius though he might, he could hardly pass up the opportunity at long last to destroy the evil locket for which Master Regulus had made the ultimate sacrifice. He looked up into Master Sirius's stormy grey eyes – so similar to Regulus's – and nodded slowly before scampering off and retrieving the locket from its hiding place. When he returned to the kitchen, he laid the locket at his master's feet and waited.

Sirius stooped down to pick it up, the locket for which his brother had perished. Having spent so much time around Horcruxes in recent days, he knew instantly that this was the real thing. It throbbed with Voldemort's dark power. Sirius tossed it carelessly into the empty grate in the fireplace and sent forth the deadly flames from the tip of his wand. The Horcrux cried out in pain, then vanished into ash.

'Thanks, Kreacher,' Sirius mumbled, then left the room. The house elf watched him depart with newfound respect.

* * *

Harry dropped down into the Chamber of Secrets, and grimaced at the grime in which he found himself. Riddle's memories had revealed nothing about how filthy the Chamber of Secrets was. Apparently, he had not noticed, which fact Harry could only ascribe to his lack of proper breeding. It was disappointing, to say the least. One would hope that the secret hiding place of the great Salazar Slytherin might contain more than just slime and old snakeskin. Harry made his way forward, noticing appreciatively that at least there seemed to be no cobwebs.

Aside from its appalling lack of cleanliness, Harry had to admit that the Chamber was very impressive. It seemed to be carved entirely out of living rock, and – given its close proximity to Hogwarts – Harry suspected that this enhanced the chamber's magical properties. The walls were decorated with arcane symbols, runes and hieroglyphs, of which Harry could only make out a few. Even Riddle's memories didn't help much in this regard. If Lord Voldemort had ever mastered the ancient languages in which the walls were inscribed, he had never been able to apply that knowledge to the Chamber itself. Strikingly, it seemed that the teenage Dark Lord's focus had been so narrowly directed at the terrible monster housed within the Chamber that he had given no thought to exploring the other secrets that gave the room its name. Harry snorted in derision. He might be a teenager himself, but he was not so careless. Aunt Cassie would have had his hide had he entered Slytherin's hidden chamber and failed thoroughly to explore and document every one of its mysteries.

In the centre of the Chamber, an enormous shrine rose up to the ceiling, culminating in a gargantuan statue of Slytherin himself. Harry knew from Riddle's memories that the basilisk lay hibernating within the shrine, ready to be summoned by Slytherin's true Heir. Harry had every intention of summoning the basilisk – how else could he prove to Sirius that he was powerful enough to stand up to Voldemort? – but he also understood that taming the basilisk might well take all of his attention for some time after it was released, and he wanted to make at least a general inventory of the Chamber's contents first.

Around in back of Slytherin's shrine, there was a small door, hardly big enough for a single man to pass through. There was no handle, but it responded readily to Harry's hissed commands, and slid open to reveal a winding staircase carved into the rock. Harry lit his wand and made his way up the stairs. The door slammed shut as soon as Harry was inside, but that did not deter the son and heir of Sirius Orion Black.

The staircase seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning and plunging deep into the shrine. Harry began to hope devoutly that the staircase did not lead into the basilisk's lair. Whilst he thought himself perfectly capable of mastering the great serpent, he had no desire to face it from within the confines of a tiny stone stairwell.

Harry's legs began to throb, and still the stairs climbed steeply upwards. He began to take brief rest stops along the way, sitting down on the stairs to catch his breath before resuming his hike. He was beginning to suspect that the stairs were magically enchanted in some way, as he felt certain that the shrine could not be this tall. As it was, he climbed for another hour before he reached the summit.

There, Harry found a small, dank, cave-like room. It was completely barren, devoid of carvings or artefacts, but Harry could feel the steady pulse of power radiating from it. In the very centre of the room lay a perfectly circular pool of silvery water. It glowed faintly in the dark, and a loud hum emanated from beneath the water. Harry crawled over to the edge – the ceiling was too low even for him to stand, and looked into the pool. It was completely still, and he could see his own reflection: aristocratic Black features, bright-blue Malfoy eyes, longish dark hair. Then the pool shimmered, and his reflection changed. He grew somewhat smaller, and his hair grew shorter. His eyes turned green, and specs appeared on the bridge of his nose. And on his forehead, as plain as day, was the lightning-bolt scar.

Harry frowned, and his reflection frowned back. He reached forward to touch the pool, and felt a sudden tugging sensation behind his navel that reminded him strongly of a Portkey.

_Oh, shit_, he thought, then disappeared.

* * *

Sirius returned to Hogwarts in a sullen mood. He had thought he would be elated at having destroyed yet another Horcrux – if Harry's information was right, there was only one left – but his argument with his son hung over him like a cloud. He knew he was doing the right thing, and wasn't planning on changing his mind simply because Harry was annoyed, but he hated arguing all the same.

He collapsed in his favourite armchair and poured himself a glass of firewhisky. He sipped it slowly, savouring the smoky flavour, and lit up a fag. That boy was going to be the death of him.

The door of his quarters opened and Remus walked in. The werewolf smirked when he saw what Sirius was up to.

'That seems like a good idea,' he said. 'Mind if I join you?'

Sirius poured Remus a glass and waved his hand towards the chair beside him. Remus thanked him as he accepted the glass, then sank down into the plush armchair.

'I heard about your little tiff,' he said. 'How are you holding up?'

Sirius shrugged. 'It's not the first time I've had an argument with Aries. It'll blow over. I'm just worried about him, is all.' He took a sip of whisky. 'Is he still angry?'

'I don't know,' Remus replied. 'I didn't see him. Draco told me.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'You found one half of the Troublesome Twosome without the other? That can't be a good sign.'

Remus took a long sip of his drink. 'I suppose. Draco said he hadn't seen either of you since the fight.'

'What the devil is the little scoundrel up to, do you think?' Sirius mused.

Remus whipped a folded-up piece of parchment out of the pocket of his robes and grinned.

'I couldn't say, but I've an idea how we can find out.'

Sirius chuckled and put out his cigarette. He leaned forward in his chair.

'Let's see it, Moony,' he said.

Remus spread the map out on the table. It took them several minutes, but eventually they discovered the tiny dot labelled 'Aries Black'. Remus furrowed his brow.

'It can't be,' he muttered. 'It looks like he's under the school somewhere. We don't have that area mapped out.'

Sirius stared at the map blankly, and then his face turned pale.

'Great God in Heaven,' he murmured. 'He's gone after the bloody basilisk!'

Remus looked at his friend sharply. 'Do you really think so?'

'Where else could he have gone?' Sirius demanded. 'He was talking about going into Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets just last night.'

'But surely he wouldn't be silly enough to go there all alone,' Remus pointed out. 'He'd take Draco with him.'

Sirius quickly scanned the parchment for his other son. Draco's dot was safely in Gryffindor Tower.

'He might be annoyed at Draco,' he pointed out. 'Draco was not exactly on his side in the whole Horcrux affair. Or he might think that Draco would try to stop him.' He cursed violently. 'Why does that boy have to be so impetuous?'

Remus gave him a wry look. 'He's a good Gryffindor,' he said. 'I think he takes after his dad.'

'That's what frightens me,' Sirius said, a despairing look on his face. 'We've got to find a way to go after him.'

'We don't even know where the entrance to the Chamber is,' Remus pointed out. 'If only we weren't in Hogwarts we could try to Apparate to him.'

Ordinarily Sirius might not have thought of the solution so quickly. Wizards of his station and upbringing tended not to think of house elves except insofar as they needed them to fetch a cup of tea. But Sirius had spent that day reading his brother's reminiscences about Kreacher and persuading the elf to help him. He had elf magic on the brain, and he knew that elf magic did not work the same way as regular magic...

'MOPSY!' he shouted, and the elf appeared instantly in the room.

'Master Black was summoning Mopsy?' the elf asked with a low bow.

'Master Aries has gone somewhere beneath the school,' Sirius explained hastily. 'We can't get to him, and he may be in grave danger. Can you take us to him?'

'Of course, Master,' Mopsy said, offering a hand each to Sirius and Remus. 'Mopsy will be doing anything to defend her Master Aries.'

The two wizards took hold of the house elf's outstretched hands and they vanished with a pop, reappearing in a cavernous, dimly-lit chamber. Sirius instantly let go of Mopsy's hand and staggered forward.

'HARRY!' he called out. 'HARRY! Where are you?'

There was no reply, and Sirius turned around to face the house elf.

'You must have made a mistake,' he said. 'Master Aries isn't here.'

Mopsy shook her head sadly.

'Mopsy is making no mistake, Master,' she sniffed, and pointed up to Slytherin's statue. 'Master Aries is in the tower.'

Sirius and Remus instantly ran over to the shrine and examined it from all sides. They found the door in the back, but could not get it to open.

'It's no use, Master,' Mopsy said. 'There is powerful magic in this place. Only those who is speaking snake-language is able to get inside.'

'Can't you pop us in?' Remus asked.

'Mopsy is afraid she can't,' the elf replied. 'Mopsy's magic isn't working in the tower. Mopsy is worrying that Master Aries is in grave danger.'

'Why?' Sirius demanded. 'What's in the tower?'

'Is it the basilisk?' Remus joined in.

Mopsy sighed. 'Mopsy isn't knowing about the basilisk, sir, but she is hearing about this tower before, from her grandmother who was working all her life at Hogwarts.' She gulped. 'It is the Tower of Terrors, sir.'

Remus went white. 'Good God,' he whispered. 'I thought it was only a myth.'

'You've heard of this before, Moony?' Sirius asked.

The werewolf nodded. 'According to legend, it is the place from which all nightmares come.'

Sirius looked up at Slytherin's ugly head and clenched his fists.

'And Harry's trapped inside.'


	53. Part II: Chapter 24

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I do apologise for being so dreadfully behind in responding to reviews, and hope to do better as RL lightens up a bit. The next update will be on Tuesday, May 10. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 24

Harry was shocked to find himself riding a Muggle bicycle – something for which his experience and training had done absolutely nothing to prepare him. He tried frantically to maintain his balance, but bicycles were not the same as broomsticks, and within moments his bicycle had fallen over – himself along with it – and his right knee was badly scraped. Harry cursed under his breath and struggled to his feet.

'Damn Muggle contraption,' he muttered.

'Harry?' an eerily-familiar voice called out. 'Are you all right?'

Harry looked up and turned white. His father – his birth father, James Potter – was running towards him. He looked strong and healthy, and very not-dead.

_I'm dreaming_, Harry thought, then James grabbed him in his strong arms and held him tight, almost as though he were afraid he might Disapparate.

'I'm all right, really,' Harry insisted, but did not fight the embrace. Instead, confused as he was, he found himself hugging back for all he was worth. All his life, Harry had known James's portrait, talked with him, played games with him, but he had never once had the chance to hug the man whom he knew to be his true father. It felt nice.

'You're a brave lad,' James said proudly, ruffling his hair. Harry noted with chagrin that his hair was as messy as James's. He much preferred having Sirius's hair. 'Let's get you inside.'

James supported Harry with one arm and they made their way into a modest house with two storeys and a pleasant English garden, which was surrounded by a low stone wall. It was nothing like any of the houses Harry was used to – it seemed even smaller than the house on Privet Drive – but it radiated a sense of warmth and comfortable good cheer.

James led Harry inside cautiously. Harry caught a glimpse of his forehead in a mirror on the wall of the foyer. There was no scar, though in every other way he looked as Harry Potter ought to do.

James helped him into a chair in front of the fireplace, then headed off to fetch some antiseptic. When he came back, he knelt beside Harry and began to tend to the scraped knee. Harry had to admit there was something extraordinarily comforting about having his father administer first aid, but it seemed very strange to him. Even with Uncle Marius and Aunt Clytemnestra, scrapes and cuts had always been left for the house elf to heal, or for Aunt Cassie to banish with a flick of her wand.

There was a sudden noise in the kitchen. Someone was messing about with pots and pans. Harry's heart leapt within his chest. He was going to meet his mum.

'Harry's scraped his knee,' James called out. 'I think this calls for some consolation.'

Harry was surprised – and a bit disappointed – to hear Sirius's voice in reply.

'I've got just the thing, James,' he said. 'It will be ready in a moment.'

Sure enough, just as James had finished bandaging Harry up, Sirius came out carrying a tray with three large bowls of mint ice cream. Harry's godfather looked much as he had during their fight that morning, except that perhaps, Harry noted with amusement, this Sirius was getting a bit stout. But the main difference was in the eyes. The real Sirius's eyes had never lost the haunted look of one who has spent a decade with the Dementors, not completely. They might shine with delight for a moment or two, but at the end of the day, that horrible stare would return. Harry had come hardly to notice it, but the difference in this Sirius was unmistakable. His eyes sparkled with irrepressible mirth, and he seemed...just happier somehow. Oddly enough, seeing how happy Sirius could be only made Harry feel terrible as though it made the real Sirius's sufferings seem all that much worse, and Harry's pigheadedness all that more ungrateful.

'Thanks,' he said as Sirius handed him the bowl of ice cream, and tried to pour into that syllable all the appreciation and affection he suddenly felt for his godfather.

'Don't mention it,' Sirius replied automatically. 'A boy has a right to ice cream when he's scraped up like this. Don't you think, James?'

'Absolutely,' James said with a wink at Harry. 'That's why I suggested it.'

They devoured the ice cream with gusto, and then watched a film on a Muggle television set. Harry had never watched a film on television before – the Dursleys had never allowed it, and the Black didn't have a television – and so was perhaps rather more enthralled by the experience than James and Sirius thought normal. After the film, James called out for pizza and they started a chess tournament after it arrived. Harry held his own there, but thought it incredibly odd that the pieces just sat there.

Sirius had just smashed James to bits and Harry was starting in on the second pie when the doorbell rang. James and Sirius's good spirits dissipated in an instant.

'It's the bitch,' Sirius growled, his face taking on the expression of particular loathing he usually reserved for talking about his mother.

'She's three effing hours early,' James grumbled as he rose to his feet.

'You could have her arse for this in court,' Sirius said, and began putting the chess set away. Harry didn't understand what was going on, but he could sense that the party was over.

'Not bloody likely,' James retorted. 'She's got Albus on her side. If I hadn't gone to Aunt Cassie for help, I doubt we'd have got this much.'

Sirius muttered something about selling one's soul to the devil, and James opened the front door. There, looking a bit older than Harry was used to, but still quite beautiful, was Lily Potter.

'Hello, James,' she said coldly, then glared at her husband's best friend. 'Sirius.'

Sirius muttered a number of curses that made even Harry blush.

'You're early, Mrs Lupin,' James said in a low, dangerous voice. 'You don't get him for another three hours, and the clock's stopped whilst we're having to deal with your intrusion.'

Lily sighed. 'I don't have time to deal with your childishness right now, James,' she replied. 'Remus and I are flying to Paris this evening, and I have to get Harry and the girls to Petunia's before seven.'

'Like hell you do!' Harry blurted out before he realised it. There was no way he was _ever_ setting foot in that Muggle woman's house again.

Lily glared at James. 'Is this the kind of influence you have on our son?' she demanded. 'Teaching him to swear at his mother?'

James ignored her. 'I don't see why we can't keep Harry whilst you're away,' he said. 'Sirius would be happy to take him to school.'

'I've told you, James,' Lily replied evenly. 'I don't want his schedule disturbed. You can pick Harry up next Friday just like always. Come along, Harry.'

'You stay right there,' James snapped at Harry, then turned on Lily. 'He's mine until nine o'clock. That's the agreement. You can't just change it without consulting with me first.'

Harry's heart broke within him as he watched his parents fighting over him. He couldn't imagine what could possibly have happened to them. They had always seemed so desperately in love in their wedding portrait. He felt Sirius's arm on his shoulder.

'Come on, Harry,' he said quietly. 'No kid should have to watch his parents fight like this.'

He went with Sirius into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Sirius sat across from him.

'What happened?' Harry whispered. 'Why are they fighting like this? They used...' He broke down in tears. James and Lily – if only in portrait form – had been one of the constants of his world. To see them like this...it was awful. He looked up into his godfather's grey eyes. 'What happened?'

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'You really ought to talk to your dad about that,' he said.

'I'm talking to you, Uncle Padfoot,' Harry insisted. It felt strange to call Sirius that, but he knew that in the dream-world he could hardly call him 'Dad', and this seemed like the best choice.

Clearly, however, it was not.

Sirius turned very pale and frowned.

'Where did you hear that name, Harry?' he demanded.

'Someone mentioned it to me,' Harry replied nervously, wondering why he wasn't supposed to know it. 'All the Marauders had nicknames at Hogwarts, right? It's because of your Animagus form.'

Now Sirius was livid. He jumped out of his seat and stormed into the other room. Harry slipped after him to see what was going on.

'You don't have to do a thing she says, Prongs!' he said to James. 'They told him! They told him everything!'

'WHAT?' James's roar was deafening. 'HOW DARE YOU?'

'But I didn't,' Lily protested.

'You did.' Sirius was adamant. 'He knows about Hogwarts.'

'You must have done it,' Lily said.

James scoffed at her. 'Very funny, Lily. When I was the one for keeping him in the dark in the first place?'

'Sirius must have slipped up,' Lily said primly, and for the first time Harry could see something of Petunia in her.

'Oi,' James snapped. 'Don't you go blaming him.'

'I'll blame whom I please,' Lily retorted.

'Oh, for the love of Merlin!' Harry exclaimed, and the three adults turned to look at him. 'Shut up before I Cruciate the lot of you.'

His parents' reaction was not at all what he had thought it would be. He had mostly made the threat to shock them into silence – even in the Black family, to threaten one's own parents with Unforgivables was considered in very poor taste. But James and Lily, and Sirius too, looked at Harry with a strange sort of sad expression he had never experienced before. It was almost like...pity. But who in their right mind would pity him? He was the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He scorned the pity of others.

But the piteous looks kept coming, and Harry began to squirm. It felt uncomfortably like the looks Aunt Cassie had given Uncle Marius from time to time.

'What are you staring at?' he demanded.

But he never got to hear the answer. Instead, a blood-curdling screech ripped through the air. Harry knew that sound. It meant one of Sirius's wards had been violated.

'Oh, God, Prongs,' Sirius said in a quiet voice. 'That one was designed for only one wizard. It's _Him._'

'Sweet Jesus,' James gasped, then grabbed Harry roughly by the arms and pushed him towards his mother.

'Go on, Lily,' he said urgently. 'Take Harry and go. Sirius and I will hold him off. Head for Hogwarts.'

_Oh no,_ Harry thought desperately. _It's happening all over again._

'No,' Harry protested. 'I'm staying with you. I can fight!'

Lily gave him another pitying look. 'There's nothing you can do, sweetie,' she said softly as she tugged on his arm. 'We need to run.'

Harry wrenched himself free of her grip. Behind him, Sirius and James had their wands out and were getting ready to fight.

'Go on with your mum, Harry,' James ordered. 'I'll see you later this evening.'

But Harry could see the telltale glint in his hazel eyes that said he was lying. James had no intention of surviving this encounter, and, judging by Sirius's grim expression, neither did he.

'Come on, Harry,' Lily urged. 'Come _now!_'

It was too late. Voldemort barged through the back door, accompanied by Lucius Malfoy and a woman whose striking face Harry knew only from old photographs: Draco's godmother, Aunt Bella. Harry threw himself between them and the people he loved, grabbing Sirius's wand out of his hand as he did so.

'What have we here?' Bellatrix cackled. 'An itty-bitty family reunion?'

'It seems so,' Lucius agreed. 'I was under the impression that Mr and Mrs Potter were...estranged.'

'How fitting,' Voldemort said in his high voice. 'The three traitors who defied me together, will now all perish together.'

'Leave them alone,' Harry said in as menacing a voice as he could muster. 'I won't let you hurt them.'

Bellatrix laughed madly, and Lucius smirked, but Voldemort would have only raised an eyebrow, had he had any eyebrows to raise.

'Out of my way, child,' he said. 'You are no concern of mine.'

'I won't let you hurt them, Riddle,' Harry repeated.

Voldemort snarled at the use of his birth name, and he raised his wand. 'And what will you do to stop me, filthy Squib?'

Harry raised his wand and let out what was supposed to be a strangled hiss, but somehow it didn't sound quite right. Sirius's wand felt wrong too, as though it were just dead wood. Harry couldn't even bring sparks out of it. Suddenly Voldemort's words clicked in his mind, and Harry realised with mounting horror why he had been the recipient of his parents' pity. He wasn't a wizard at all.

Voldemort flicked his wand lazily towards Harry's chest.

'_Avada Kedavra_,' he rasped, and the green light rushing towards him was the last thing Harry saw before the world turned black.

* * *

Back in the Chamber, Sirius was trying all manner of spells on the door of the shrine, without any luck. Mopsy had gone to fetch reinforcements, and Remus was attempting to translate the inscriptions on the walls.

'Come here, Padfoot,' the werewolf called out. 'My runes are a bit rusty.'

Sirius headed over to where his friend was standing. 'I doubt mine are any better.'

'Well, maybe we're at least not rusty in the same places,' Remus replied with a smirk. He ran his finger along one inscription. 'Here Slytherin is saying that this tower is the source of his power, the hiding place of his three greatest treasures.'

Sirius nodded, following along. 'The Puddle of Likelihoods, the Cooking Pot of Perplexity and the Rosebush of Snakes that guards them both.'

'Padfoot, I think that last one says _arvek_, not _urvak_,' Remus pointed out, trying not to laugh.

'Sorry,' Sirius mumbled. 'So that's the Duke of Snakes, then.'

'Or perhaps the King of Serpents?' Remus suggested wryly.

'Shut up, Moony.'

Remus laughed. 'How did you ever manage to get an O on your Ancient Runes O.W.L.?' he teased. 'The translations are supposed to be idiomatic.'

'Considering my O.W.L. was the last time I looked at a bloody rune, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well,' Sirius growled back.

Remus shook his head, laughing. 'So we've got the Puddle of Likelihoods, the Cooking Pot of Perplexity and the Duke of Snakes – or, translated somewhat more poetically: the Pond of Possibilities, the Cauldron of Confusion and the King of Serpents.'

'You know, Moony,' Sirius said dryly, 'if you don't want my help, I can leave you to translate the wall by yourself, Mr I-barely-scraped-a-pass-on-my-Runes-O.W.L.-because-my-oh-so-poetically-idiomatic-translations-were-oh-so-very-wrong.'

'Pure-blooded ponce,' Remus mumbled, resorting to a favourite insult from school days.

'Half-witted half-breed,' Sirius shot back automatically.

And they went back to translating the inscription.

* * *

Harry awoke to find himself in an ostentatious bedroom, hung with heavy damask tapestries and crammed with antique gilt furniture. He sat up straight in the large feather bed and stretched, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he did so. He was himself, only at least a decade older. He looked like a younger version of Sirius, tall and well-muscled, with broad shoulders and haughty good looks. He had to smile at the sight. This was the first dream he'd had since he was sucked into the pool where he felt comfortable with how he looked.

He tossed off the thick duvet and leapt to the floor. He was wearing nothing but his pants.

A large, elaborately-carved wardrobe stood in one corner of the room, in which Harry found several sets of fine robes. He put on a lovely blue set that matched his eyes, and set about looking for his wand. He always placed his wand on the bedside table before going to bed, and, to be sure, he found a wand in holster lying exactly where it ought to. But it wasn't his wand. The wood was different, and it was ornately carved in a fashion that had been out of style for centuries. It seemed vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn't quite place it. As he wrapped his fingers around the wood, a sudden rush of power ran up his arm. He could sense that this wand was far more powerful than his own; he felt almost as though he could do anything with it. He hadn't felt such a rush since he had learnt how to perform magic in Parseltongue.

He tied the leather holster to his forearm and left the room, only to start when he found two guards dressed in red uniforms standing in the corridor. They jumped to attention as soon as he opened the door, but said nothing. Harry was unused to having guards, but he was well accustomed to having servants, so he only nodded at them in acknowledgement as he continued on his way.

The house was palatial – even Harry, who had grown up in the midst of extraordinary wealth, had never seen its equal. Even more striking were the sheer number of servants bustling about, both humans and house elves. All stopped and bowed or curtsied to Harry as he passed. Harry recognised none of them, which was more than frustrating, as he had no idea where he was going.

Eventually, he saw Draco, and sighed in relief. His brother and best friend was walking towards him, dressed in emerald-green robes. He stopped a few feet from Harry and bowed.

'Good morning, Draco,' Harry said.

'Your Majesty,' Draco replied respectfully. 'I trust you slept well.'

_Your Majesty? _Harry thought, but nodded anyway.

'Excellent.' Draco leaned closer. 'If it please Your Majesty, the Prime Minister requests an audience in your private study. There are urgent matters to discuss.'

Harry nodded and followed Draco to the study, doing his best to make it look as though he had a clue what was going on.

They went through a large exterior office and passed through a series of elaborately-constructed wards to enter a luxurious private study, in the centre of which stood a large desk. Behind the desk, on a high table shielded with various visible wards, Ravenclaw's diadem sat on a large cushion, along with the Gaunt family ring, Harry's invisibility cloak and the Philosopher's Stone. Harry's eyes went wide.

Once inside the study, Draco dropped all pretence of formality. He collapsed in an armchair, not waiting for Harry to sit down.

'Dad will be here in just a moment,' he said. 'That Mudblood Granger is being a real pain in the arse. I still don't see why you appointed her Minister for Muggle Affairs.'

Harry made no reply. He had no idea why he'd appoint Granger anything either.

Draco continued without interruption. 'I told him we ought just to AK her, but he wants to consult with you first.' He smirked nastily. 'I think he's going soft in his old age.'

Harry blinked in surprise, but kept quiet. He wasn't sure what was going on in the pool, but he wasn't going to mess about until he knew more.

The door opened, and Sirius came in, looking younger and healthier than ever. His eyes looked world-weary, but no longer haunted. He plopped down in a chair next to Draco.

'Morning, Harry,' he said. 'Sleep all right?'

Harry nodded.

'That Granger is one horrid old crone,' Sirius spat. 'She keeps going behind my back to undermine Government policy, and the other day she gave a public speech calling for the full integration of the Wizengamot into Parliament.'

'That's preposterous,' Draco snapped. 'I won't stand for it! I haven't run the Wizengamot for a hundred and fourteen years just to have it abolished.' He turned to Harry. 'I say we AK her and drop the body off the cliffs of Dover.' His eyes gleamed wickedly. 'Or, even better, we could Kiss her.'

'No!' Sirius shouted. 'Anything but that!' He looked at Harry pleadingly. 'You promised that Dumbledore would be the last one. Tell me you won't let Draco Kiss her, no matter how much of a bitch she is.'

Harry's heart melted, seeing his godfather beg. He suppressed a chuckle. Sirius was such a dog.

'Of course we won't Kiss her,' he said quietly, and Sirius looked visibly relieved. Draco sulked.

'So we'll just AK her then?' he offered.

Sirius shook his head. 'I really don't think we need to go that far. The hag's a hundred and forty-seven. How much longer do you really think she'll last? It's not as though Harry's been slipping her any Elixir.'

'You really have got sentimental, haven't you, Dad?' Draco observed. 'You didn't make this much of a fuss when we executed the Weasleys, or even the Longbottoms.' He nodded briefly towards Harry. 'And need I remind you that without the judicious use of the Killing Curse we should never have been blessed with the glorious and eternal reign of our Sovereign Lord, King Aries the Conqueror?'

Sirius sighed. 'I know that.' He paused. 'I'm tired, is all. Ever since Moony...' His voice trailed off.

Draco's expression softened, and he placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder.

'We all feel awful about that, Dad,' he said. 'We loved Uncle Moony. But he led an insurrection against the Crown. Aries couldn't just let that slide.'

Sirius glared at his two sons. 'But was it really necessary to exterminate the entire werewolf population of Britain just to set an example?'

'Bad form, Dad,' Draco snapped. 'Aries apologised for losing his temper. You promised you wouldn't bring it up again.'

Sirius shrugged and looked over at Harry.

'Sorry, Harry,' he mumbled.

'It's all right,' Harry said automatically, but his mouth had gone dry. What kind of a monster had he become here? Is this what would happen if he became a Dark Lord?

'So what should we do about Granger?' Sirius asked reluctantly. 'If you really want me to AK her, I can have one of the Unspeakables do it.'

Harry's dad and brother looked at him expectantly. Harry felt sick. He was being asked to decide the fate of another human being. That was a frightening amount of power. He hesitated, then shook his head.

'No,' he said. 'She's just a barmy old woman. She can't make any real trouble.'

Draco stared at him as though he had gone quite mad, but Sirius smiled gently.

'I'm glad to see you're still in there somewhere, Harry,' he said wistfully, then rose to his feet. 'I have a meeting with the Transylvanian Ambassador after lunch. I'll be sure to let you know how it turns out.'

Draco stood up as well. 'I suppose I ought to draft a response to Granger's ridiculous suggestion.'

'Just say it's a load of bollocks,' Harry suggested, and Draco smirked.

'I may do precisely that,' he said, and he and Sirius left the study.

After they had gone, Harry turned around to look at the diadem on the table behind him. If he was going to figure out what was going on with him, he thought the diadem would be the place to begin. He took out his wand and cast a diagnostic spell to test the wards. The defensive charms and curses that had been placed on the study were truly formidable. He hadn't the foggiest idea of how to go about undoing them, but that didn't seem necessary. So long as he was in the study, he was completely isolated from the outside world. The wards were keyed to specific individuals: only Draco, Sirius and Harry himself could pass through them, and Draco and Sirius were only able to come into the study if Harry was with them. At least he was secure for the time being.

He turned his attention to the wards surrounding the diadem. They were twice as intricate, but similarly keyed to Harry personally. He was the only one who could pass through them, and in order to do so he had to be acting of his own free and un-coerced will. On the other hand, all he needed to do to get the diadem was simply to reach out and take it. He did so.

The diadem tingled in his hands, and Harry felt a rush of excitement at the power he wielded.

_This is who you could have been_, a voice said in his head. _If only Sirius hadn't been so foolhardy._

But then Harry thought of the pathetic gratitude on Sirius's face when he had decided not to kill Granger, and decided that he couldn't stay angry at the only dad he'd ever known. Frankly, whilst Harry didn't mind the idea of being King, the thought that he had ordered the extermination of all the werewolves made him feel more than a bit uncomfortable. And why would Remus lead a revolt against him, anyway?

Hoping that he would soon find out the answers to these and all the other questions that percolated in his mind, Harry lifted the diadem and set it on his own head.


	54. Part II: Chapter 25

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Thanks to Teufel1987 for talking through a couple of ideas with me, which affected where I went with the first scene. This chapter is admittedly a bit weird, but I'm rather fond of it. We shall return to less philosophical chapters with the next installment on Friday, May 13. (Though Harry may find himself running into a bit of bad luck if he's not careful.) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 25

Harry sat in his study, Ravenclaw's diadem perched atop his head, as he considered carefully all that had taken place. It was clear by now that each dream showed him a different way things might have turned out. The pool seemed to contain a myriad of diverse possibilities. The Diadem spoke to him of legends that described such things, and Harry could easily see how a pool like that could be of great use to an ambitious wizard such as Salazar Slytherin, though he supposed that Slytherin must have learnt how to control the pool, since floating through an infinite number of possible realities would do little to advance one's understanding of the particular problems one faced in any given situation.

Harry had just begun to think of ways in which he could manipulate the dreams in order to focus on more specific possibilities when he heard a sudden explosion in the streets. He got out of his armchair and peered out the window, knowing that he was perfectly safe in his study.

The gates of Buckingham Palace had burst open, and hordes of filthy Muggles – literally so, in this instance – came flooding through. They carried a variety of crude weapons and were shouting an assortment of vulgar insults about Harry's parentage. Harry's first thought was surprise at how very many of them there were. He had never seen so many people – Muggles or wizards – gathered in one place before. And this group were quite...annoyed. For a moment, Harry thought he understood how his Wizarding forebears must have felt when Muggle mobs had come after them. The difference in power between a Muggle and wizard might well be immeasurable, but even an elephant can be overcome by an army of ants.

Harry reached for his wand, which the Diadem promptly identified for him as the infamous Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny. If he really was the King, it was his duty to deal with the rebels. Perhaps if he heard their demands he might find a way to placate them. If not, then he had to calm them before they hurt someone. Harry wondered briefly how many Muggles one could Stun with a single hex.

He opened the door to his study and began to leave, only to be physically stopped by Sirius.

'Oh, no, you don't,' he said firmly as he shoved Harry back into the study and closed the door. 'The safest place in the world for you is in here.' He held up an amulet that he wore around his neck. 'If Draco doesn't manage to quell the rebellion, we can Portkey to one of your secure estates on the Continent. Don't worry, Harry. I won't let anything happen to you.'

'I need to...,' Harry began, but Sirius cut him off.

'We're going to wait to leave until Draco gets here,' he said adamantly. 'Sentimental Gryffindor that I am, I may never have understood this strange love/hate relationship that you two have, but I'm not going to let you just run off and abandon him.' He snorted, and glanced over to the table behind the desk, where the Philosopher's Stone still sat together with the invisibility cloak. 'Besides, I'd have thought that a Slytherin like you would have made sure to secure all your treasures before running away.'

Harry was dumbfounded. Sirius thought he wanted to run away? But Harry had never run away from anything. And why did Sirius think he was a Slytherin, anyway?

'You don't understand, Dad,' Harry protested, struggling against his godfather's powerful grip. 'I can't let Draco face that crowd alone. I've got to help him.'

Sirius looked into Harry's eyes in bewilderment. After a bit, Harry thought he saw a single tear running down his godfather's cheek.

'You are a Potter after all, aren't you?' he said in a quiet voice. 'Ever since I got out of Azkaban to find that you'd been raised by Granddad and Aunt Cassie in Transylvania, I've been looking for some hint of James in you. It's been nearly one hundred and thirty years, and I've never really seen it until now. Merlin, you're practically Pollux Black reborn! I see a good bit of Aunt Cassie in you too, and of my mum, and even of myself, but I've never seen even a spark of James in all this time.' He sniffed, and rubbed his eyes. 'Don't get me wrong. I love you to death, Harry, and I'll stick with you to the end, no matter what.' He paused. 'But honestly, I think this is the first time I've ever really been proud of you.' He chuckled. 'Well, since you learned to talk anyway.'

Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He certainly hoped that he had made his own Sirius proud more often than once in a hundred and fifty years. He gulped hard and bit his lower lip.

'Come on, Dad,' he said, gesturing for Sirius to follow. 'Let's go help Draco.'

Sirius beamed at him, and the two wizards ran off together. They found Draco standing in the courtyard of the palace, hexing irate Muggles left and right and barely blocking their stones and bullets with his Shield Charms. He grinned when he saw his adoptive family come and stand beside him.

'A century and a half, and you still surprise me, Aries,' Draco said. 'The gesture is certainly appreciated, though there really is no help a wizard as pathetic as you could offer Lord Draco the Malevolent.'

Harry snorted, brandishing the Deathstick and discovering in the process that one can actually Stun a great many Muggles at a single time.

'Your feeble parlour tricks are no match for the awesome power of Lord Aries the Black,' he taunted.

The three of them had nearly subdued the Muggle mob when new reinforcements came to support the rebel cause. Harry and Draco exchanged anxious looks when they saw their armaments: these rebels were carrying wands.

There was a cackle high above, and an old hag with bushy white hair and a single bucktooth protruding from her lip dived towards them.

'_Sic semper tyrannis!_' she shouted, and a green bolt erupted from her wand and flew towards Draco. Harry leapt in front of him, and the world went black yet again.

* * *

At two in the morning, Sirius and Remus were still busily searching for ways into the Tower, though now with some assistance. Sirius and Abraxas were working on the door, whilst Remus and Cassiopeia were completing their translation of the inscriptions on the walls.

'Great Merlin,' Cassiopeia mumbled. 'I trained that boy better than this. He ought to know better than to go barging into a powerful magical location without knowing precisely what he's getting himself into.' She sighed. 'He's his father's son, I suppose. Idiotic Gryffindors.'

'Have you had any luck figuring out why exactly the three secrets were so special to Slytherin?' Remus asked, adroitly changing the subject. He had many years experience at dealing with Black moods, after all.

Cassiopeia sniffed. 'The basilisk should be obvious,' she replied. 'As for the other two objects, I have yet to ascertain their intended function.'

'I first heard about the Tower years ago, when I was researching centaur legends for my History of Magic N.E.W.T.,' Remus mused. 'They believe that the tower causes nightmares for those who enter it.'

'It is possible,' Cassiopeia conceded, 'though I fail to see what use such a place would be for Salazar Slytherin. According to the inscriptions, he viewed the Tower as the source of ultimate power.'

Remus nodded. 'In particular, he references the Pool of Possibilities.'

Cassiopeia closed her eyes in concentration.

'Do you know any of the epic songs of the Grey Sorcerers of Montenegro?' she asked snappishly.

'No,' Remus replied, confused by the sudden change in topic. 'If I may ask...'

But he never got to finish his question. Cassiopeia rose to her feet and strolled over to where Abraxas and Sirius were trying to break in to the Tower. Remus shook his head and followed after her.

'Just the one,' Sirius was saying. 'Mum used to sing it to us as a lullaby.'

Remus suppressed a chuckle. Somehow he couldn't manage to picture Walburga Black singing her sons to sleep. For his part, Sirius began to sing softly.

'_Strashnomu Iziaslavu kniaz' pokaza_,' he began, '_chudes istochnik smertnago strakha_...' His voice trailed off. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. 'I don't really remember the rest.'

Remus was about to ask what the song meant, and what any of it had to do with Harry, when Abraxas jumped in.

'I remember that song,' he said. 'Though I'm not much of a singer. It goes on, "_V nemzhe iavishasia vsia byvshaia i vsia sushchaia ._'

'_Vsia iazhe byti mogli bysha i iazhe byti eshche mogut_,' Sirius finished. 'I can't believe I forgot that. It used to be my favourite part.' He frowned. 'But what does it mean?'

'And what does any of it have to do with helping Aries?' Remus put in.

'The centaurs aren't the only ones with legends, Mr Lupin,' Cassiopeia said haughtily. 'The inscription speaks of a "Pool of Possibilities" and a "Tower of Terror". The Montenegrin song speaks of a "font of mortal fear" that reveals "all that was and all that is, all that might have been and all that might yet be." Does it seem like a coincidence to you?'

Remus and Sirius exchanged nervous glances. It certainly sounded as though there might be a connexion.

'A pool that showed every possible oytcome of events would be an incredibly useful weapon,' Abraxas pointed out. 'If Salazar Slytherin controlled such a thing, it would certainly merit his strongest protections.'

Remus thought about that for a moment. Something still didn't feel quite right about this explanation. Evidently Sirius felt the same way.

'That doesn't make sense,' he said. 'Why would something that showed you other possible realities cause nightmares? Harry could see what might have happened if he'd grown up with his parents, if James had lived.'

Cassiopeia gave Sirius a funny look, and Remus thought he could detect a subtle hint of pity beneath her stern features.

'Think about it, Sirius,' she said, and her voice was gentler than Remus had ever known it. 'The pool shows _every_ possibility, not just the ones we might prefer. There are an infinite number of ways in which something can go wrong, and only a very few sets of possibilities in which everything can go right.'

'And even if one could manage to see the more pleasant possibilities,' Abraxas added, 'one would be forever haunted by the thought of what might have been.'

Sirius nodded, his brow furrowed in concern.

'We've got to get him out of there,' he said.

'There is a way,' Cassiopeia said, 'but one of us will have to go after him.'

* * *

After more dreams than he could count, Harry found himself standing in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts. No one else was there, so Harry allowed himself to collapse to the ground and sob violently. He had just seen Sirius murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, and all because Harry had been too stupid not to recognise a bloody trap when he saw it. Time after time since he had entered the dream-world, Harry had found himself in dire circumstances, but he had nonetheless managed to save the ones he loved more often than not. This time, however, he had been able to do nothing but watch as his godfather fell through the Veil.

Harry told himself that he was being stupid, that it had only been a dream, the fevered imaginings of whatever sick person had created the pool, but it did nothing to reduce his grief. He had watched Sirius die in an attempt to save him from a trap into which he had freely walked. He had killed Bellatrix afterwards, of course, in the most painful way possible, and then confronted Riddle for the umpteenth time since these nightmares had begun. This time, powered by anger and sorrow, he had defeated Riddle, which did not occur all that often, but he knew that Riddle had not truly been destroyed. He could feel the Dark Lord's ongoing presence as Voldemort fled the Ministry to take refuge in his shadowy existence. It all came back to those effing Horcruxes.

Harry struggled to his feet and looked around him. The office was quite empty – even the portraits had all abandoned their frames. In fact, the only item of any interest to him at all was a stone Pensieve that sat on the Headmistress's desk. Curious as to what he might find there, Harry gently touched the silver fluid.

* * *

'I've got it!' Abraxas exclaimed in triumph as the door to the Tower finally flew open. Remus and Cassiopeia hardly had a moment to react as Sirius jumped on his broomstick and flew up into the stairwell. It took him only a few minutes to reach the top, where he found a strange pool, shimmering with golden light, but no Harry. Acting on pure reckless instinct, as he tended to do under stressful circumstances, he plunged eagerly into the Pool of Possibilities, focussing all his will and energy on the desire to find his missing godson.

He found himself in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was in front of him, looking a bit older than he ought to do – and painfully like James. Beside them, looking oddly translucent, were James, Lily and Remus. Sirius looked instinctively down at his own hands. He could almost see through them.

'What the bloody hell is going on?' he demanded, and four pairs of eyes – well, six, really, if one counted James and Harry's glasses – turned to stare at him. 'Why can I see through my hands?'

'Because you're dead,' Harry said glumly. 'I saw it happen. Bellatrix Lestrange did it.' He snarled. 'Don't worry, though. She got what was coming to her.' His face wore a deadly expression that Sirius was unaccustomed to seeing on James's face. It was purely Black, and Sirius knew at once that this was his Aries, no matter what he looked like.

Remus looked at Harry strangely. 'What did you do to her?'

Harry's face went blank. 'Oh, nothing,' he said unconvincingly. 'I must have got confused.'

'Anyway,' Lily broke in, 'we want you to know that we're very proud of what you're doing.'

Sirius was confused. 'Why? What's he doing?'

There was no response. Sirius stepped forward and looked directly into Harry's eyes.

'Aries Sirius Black,' he snapped, 'you tell me what you're up to this instant, or, I swear to Merlin...'

A light flashed in Harry's eyes, and he looked up to Sirius with a sudden grin.

'Or you'll Cruciate me to within an inch of my life?' he finished. 'Dad, is it really you?'

Sirius nodded. 'Are you all right?' he asked.

Harry laughed madly. 'All right? I just found out that _I _am one of Riddle's bloody Horcruxes! That's why I can talk to snakes, and that's why I have a special connexion with his mind. Until I die, Riddle can't. So I'm going to let him kill me.'

'WHAT?' Sirius shouted, then twirled around and glared at his three friends. 'And you lot approve of this? Are you all out of your effing minds?'

'It's all right, Sirius,' Harry said. 'I've died in most of these dreams. This is the way it has to be. It's my destiny.'

Sirius grabbed his godson, and was momentarily surprised that he was even able to make contact.

'No,' he said firmly. 'I'm your dad and I utterly forbid it.'

There were sputtering noises from the other three ghosts, but Sirius ignored them.

'I don't know who this lot think they are,' he continued, 'but your real mum and dad gave their lives so that you could live yours, not so you could throw it away on some damn fool suicide mission.'

'But Dumbledore...,' Harry began.

'Now I know you've gone barmy from spending all this time in here, if you give a flying flip what Dumbledore has to say,' Sirius retorted. 'Look, this is a nightmare. It's only a possible reality. We don't know that anything you see here is even remotely true. Frankly, I find the idea that I could get killed by my...er...sister-in-law to be absolutely ludicrous, not even worthy of consideration.'

'But I saw...,' Harry began again.

'It's only a nightmare, Harry,' Sirius repeated. 'Dreams pass. The real world's something else. We're going to wake up, and we'll check to see whether you might actually be a Horcrux. God knows that would explain a lot of really strange shit. But if you are, we'll find a way to get it out of you, a way that doesn't involve surrendering to Tom effing Riddle.' He grabbed Harry by the hand. 'We don't have to accept this, Harry. We didn't choose any of this. And we don't have to play along to the tune of some stupid prophecy.'

'My parents died to save me,' Harry said. 'Do you think they were stupid?'

'Not once,' Sirius replied instantly. 'And I would die in a heartbeat to save you. And I know that you would die in a heartbeat to save me and Draco.'

'Have done,' Harry muttered. 'Loads of times since I came here.'

'And I can't begin to tell you how proud I am that you're willing to do it,' Sirius said. 'There's nothing greater or more beautiful than dying to save one's friends. But there's a hell of a difference between dying to save someone and just dying. Just dying is a defeat, but dying to give life to someone else – that's a victory.' He ruffled Harry's hair and pulled him closer. 'And you've always been a winner.'

Harry smiled up at his godfather. 'I love you, Dad,' he said. 'And...er...I'm sorry about the thing with the Horcruxes. After some of the things I've seen, I'm beginning to think you might have been right.'

Sirius laughed aloud. 'You'll find that I often am,' he said. 'Are you ready to leave?'

'How do you figure we do that?' Harry asked.

'It cannot be done,' Lily's ghost intoned, but her voice was not her own. 'You must continue to play out the illusion. Only once you have fulfilled the plan perfectly will you be able to return to your own reality.'

James's ghost smirked. 'Of course,' he said in a similarly unearthly voice, 'that hardly ever happens.'

Sirius grasped Harry's hand firmly and turned around to face his friends' doppelgangers.

'And if we refuse?' he asked.

'Then you will continue to play out scenario after scenario, until you accept the ultimate truth and walk along your determined path,' Remus's ghost said.

'We won't,' Sirius replied.

Beside him, Harry took a deep breath. 'And you can't make us.'

'No one has ever successfully defied us,' not-Lily stated.

'How did Slytherin manage, then?' Harry demanded.

Not-Remus raised an eyebrow. 'What makes you think he did? He is still trapped here, futilely searching throughout all eternity for a way to manipulate destiny to his own purposes.'

'And if you defy us,' Not-James added, 'the same will be true for you.'

'Perhaps,' Sirius said with a cocky grin, sitting down on a stone. Harry joined him. 'But we're not playing anymore.'

Not-Lily hissed angrily, and the world went black. When Sirius and Harry regained consciousness, they were both lying on the rocky banks of the silvery pond.


	55. Part II: Chapter 26

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I apologise for my tardiness. The next chapter ought to be posted on Tuesday, May 17. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 26

Just before sunrise that next morning, when Draco woke up back in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, the blond boy's eyes darted instantly to his brother's bed. It was still empty, and had clearly not been slept in all night. Draco frowned. He knew that Aries had not been in bed when he himself had retired, and Draco had stayed up in the Common Room until midnight playing chess with Dean Thomas. This couldn't be good.

Draco slipped out of bed, splashed water on his face and quickly brushed his hair before throwing on some casual robes and running off to find his adoptive father. A thousand horrible scenarios flashed through his mind on the way. He knew his brother all too well, and suspected Aries of doing something rash. Draco wasn't sure which made him angrier: the fact that Aries might have got himself hurt or killed, or the fact that he hadn't invited Draco to go along with him.

The corridors of the castle were empty this early on a Sunday morning, and Draco made exceptionally good time - so good, in fact, that he had run past the painting of Athena before he had realised it was there. He backtracked a few steps, then uttered the password. The painting swung open.

Inside, curled up together on the sofa, lay Sirius and Aries. Neither one had even changed into their pyjamas, and empty bottles of butterbeer sat on the coffee table in front of them. They didn't look particularly comfortable. Sirius's head lay on his left shoulder, his long hair hanging in front of his eyes, and Aries' face was squashed up against Sirius's chest. Sirius was drooling a bit. Draco thought about taking a photograph and sending it into _Witch Weekly_, but that would have been unnecessarily cruel. He decided instead simply to take one and send it to his mum. He thought she might appreciate it.

He retrieved his dad's camera from the desk and took several pictures in rapid succession. He took out the film and slipped it into his pocket, then quietly left the room. There were countless other pranks he could have played on them, of course, but Draco thought it a shame to disturb them. Squashed and drooling as they were, it was still a cute father-and-son scene, so Draco thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Once he had deposited the film back in his trunk – he would have the photographs developed later – Draco went searching for something to do. No one else in Gryffindor Tower was awake. (Daring and chivalry, for some odd reason, seemed not often to correspond with promptness in waking, especially on the weekend.) Draco left the Tower and made his way to Professor Lupin's quarters. Remus Lupin was another early riser, and Draco thought he might share an early breakfast with the Transfiguration master before the others woke up.

He gave the password and made his way into the professor's quarters, only to find the werewolf snoring loudly. Remus, at least, had made it into his bed, but he had also fallen asleep fully dressed. He was even wearing his boots. Draco frowned as he left Remus's quarters and headed downstairs to the Great Hall. Something very strange was going on, and Draco had the unpleasant sense that his family had been on some adventure or another the night before, and he alone had been left out.

The Great Hall was empty except for one first-year girl at the Slytherin table who was eating a buttered croissant and sipping a cup of cocoa. Draco smiled when he saw her: it was Astoria Greengrass.

Draco sat down across from the younger girl. She didn't notice him, being still very interested in her croissant.

'Good morning, Astoria,' Draco said, and smiled when she jumped in surprise.

'Draco!' she exclaimed, then turned a delicate shade of rose.

'Do you mind if I join you for breakfast?' Draco asked.

Astoria's eyes went wide. 'A-aren't you supposed to be sitting with your Housemates?' she stammered.

Draco chuckled and waved one arm at the empty hall.

'There's no one else here, Astoria,' he pointed out. 'And it's much more pleasant to eat in the presence of pleasant company, wouldn't you agree?'

The girl nodded meekly, a bit overwhelmed at having such a wealthy third-year Gryffindor speaking to her, not to mention the fact that said third-year was the adopted son of the infamous Sirius Black, who for all that he was supposedly innocent and now teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, still managed to inspire fear in the hearts of many of his pupils, especially the Slytherins.

As soon as Draco had sat down at the table, additional trays appeared. Astoria Greengrass might have been satisfied with a bit of pastry, but Draco preferred a substantial breakfast, and evidently the elves knew this. Draco piled his plate high with bacon and eggs, along with a couple of pieces of hot buttered toast spread thickly with marmalade, and put three heaping teaspoons of sugar into his very strong tea.

Astoria watched him with an admixture of horror and fascination.

'How can you eat all that?' she asked him. 'Mummy says that one ought always to watch what one eats very carefully, lest one lose one's girlish figure and not be able to wear fashionable dress robes.'

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'I'm a boy,' he replied, as though that settled everything.

Astoria nodded thoughtfully. 'I suppose that does make some sense. Mummy makes Daddy eat exactly what we do when he eats at home, but he often chooses to dine at his club, and I know that there he eats whatever he likes.'

'And how often does he dine at the club?' Draco asked.

'Five or six nights a week,' Astoria replied nonchalantly, then took another dainty nibble of her croissant.

Draco laughed. Astoria looked surprised at first, but then she smiled a bit.

'I suppose it is rather amusing,' she admitted. She took a sip of tea, then fixed Draco in her sights. She leaned forward over the table. 'Tell me, Draco,' she whispered, glancing back and forth to make sure they were still quite alone. 'Do you happen to know anything about...cooking?'

Draco laughed again, and began to regale the girl with stories of Granny Black and her kitchen of wonders. Astoria listened with wide-eyed amazement, her croissant forgotten.

'Perhaps this summer you and your sister could come stay with us at the chateau,' Draco suggested. 'Granny loves to play hostess, and I think Aries would be particularly delighted to have Daphne visit.' He leaned forward confidentially, until their foreheads were almost touching. 'I think he fancies her,' he said quietly, and Astoria giggled.

'Do you really think so?' she asked.

Draco nodded confidently. 'I'm pretty sure about it,' he replied. 'But don't say anything. I don't think even Aries has realised it yet.'

'My lips are sealed,' Astoria promised.

After breakfast, just as a few of the other students and a couple of professors were beginning to drift in one by one, Draco escorted Astoria back to the dungeons, then returned to Gryffindor Tower to collect his books. The day was fine, and unseasonably warm, so he decided to do his homework outside by the lake. When he came back inside just before lunch, he thought he'd drop by Sirius's quarters and see if his dad and brother were up yet.

Indeed they were. Still dressed in the clothes they had worn the day before, and looking rather beleaguered and battle-weary, Aries and Sirius were nonetheless both very much awake, sitting at the table in Sirius's dining room and staring silently at their cups of tea. Remus was there too, looking a bit fresher than the others, but wearing an expression of grave concern that sent chills down Draco's spine. Most surprising, however, for the young wizard, were the other family members who had arrived: his mum, Aunt Cassie, Granddad and Aunt Clytemnestra.

'Are you certain?' Draco's mother asked Aunt Cassie. Her face was very pale, and she sat beside Sirius, gently squeezing his arm.

Cassiopeia nodded once. Her grey eyes looked empty, and even a bit guilty, which was not an emotion Draco associated with his fierce great-aunt, who tended to chastise the other members of the family for being overly scrupulous. In the Black family, that was saying something.

Granddad winced, and laid a heavy hand on Aries's shoulder.

'Good God,' he whispered. 'I'm so sorry, Aries.'

'It's not your fault, Granddad,' Aries replied, his voice cracking.

'But I encouraged you to use the powers it gave you,' Granddad insisted. 'If I hadn't...well, perhaps it would be easier to remove.'

'We all encouraged him, Abraxas,' Sirius said. His voice was hollow, and he was staring blankly at the wall. 'We're all at fault.'

Aries shook his head. 'I got just as much a thrill out of it as anyone,' he said adamantly. 'Besides, there's no evidence to suggest that it made any difference, right, Aunt Cassie?'

'I don't think so,' Aunt Cassie replied, looking more uncertain than Draco had ever seen her. 'So far as I am aware, there is only one way to remove it, and that would be true regardless of how attached you were to it.'

'What the devil's going on?' Draco demanded, stepping fully into the room. All eyes turned to glance at him mournfully, but no one said anything.

Aries looked back down at his cup, then spoke very quietly.

'I'm the last Horcrux, Draco,' he said.

'Very funny, Aries,' Draco snapped, but he noticed that there was not even a glint of humour in the eyes of any of his relatives.

'It's true,' his mum said sadly, and Sirius continued to glare at the wall, saying nothing.

'No!' Draco shouted, and ran to his brother's side, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders. 'It can't be!'

'It is,' Aries replied with resignation. 'I have a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul inside me. That's what makes me a Parselmouth, and that's what gives me a special link to Riddle's mind.'

'That filthy son of a Squib!' Clytemnestra spat, and all eyes turned to look at her in shock. The magically-impaired witch blushed scarlet. 'It's only an expression,' she muttered apologetically.

'What are we going to do?' Draco asked, not much caring who answered.

'I have to die,' Aries said quietly. 'That's the only way to destroy the Horcrux.'

'Screw that,' Sirius snarled, but did not shift his eyes from the wall for a second.

'Perhaps Dumbledore...,' Remus suggested, but shut up quickly at the others' withering glare. 'Well, there has to be some other way to destroy the Horcrux without killing Harry.'

'Professor Lupin,' Cassiopeia drawled in her very haughtiest tone, 'I am an expert in the Dark Arts. I have pored through countless forbidden manuscripts and ancient tomes. I have devoted my life to learning all that can be known, and many things that ought not to be known. I assure you: there is no other way.'

'You were talking about injecting basilisk venom into the other Horcruxes as a way to preserve their vessels,' Remus pointed out. 'Mightn't such an injection be a way to destroy the Horcrux without hurting Aries?'

'I have contemplated that possibility all night,' Cassiopeia assured him. 'But there is no way it will work. Basilisk venom is fatal, causing death to human tissue within forty-seven seconds. The Horcruxes, based on my calculations, need to be exposed to the venom for at least fifty-two seconds in order to guarantee their destruction. My method might have worked on the other Horcruxes' – here she glared accusingly at Sirius – 'but there is no way it would work on a living human being, especially a child.' She sniffed. 'Even if we had ready access to phoenix tears, it would do us no good, as saving Aries would also preserve the Horcrux.'

Draco sat pensively, painfully aware of the defeated expression on his brother's face. He hated to see Aries looking so weak, so helpless. And Sirius... Sirius looked as though he might snap at any moment.

'Then we have no choice,' Mum said. 'We must allow the Dark Lord to survive. We can fight him and do our best to keep him from returning to power, but there is no way to destroy him completely.'

Granddad snorted. 'It is very disappointing, is it not? To think that we, with all our knowledge of the occult arts, can do nothing to overcome that ridiculous half-blood.'

'It's because he knows everything we do,' Harry said quietly. 'If we fight Riddle on his own turf, he'll win.'

An idea suddenly appeared in Draco's mind.

'Then we'll just have to fight him another way, shan't we?' he said.

Sirius slowly turned his gaze from the wall and looked at the blonder of his sons, hope glistening in his eyes for the first time that morning.

'What are you thinking of, Draco?' he asked.

The boy squirmed nervously. He hadn't really thought of an actual plan yet.

'Well,' he said. 'If there's no way to beat Riddle with the Dark Arts, then we'll have to try something else. Something he doesn't know anything about.'

'White magic,' Sirius mused, and Draco nodded.

'Don't be stupid,' Granddad snapped. 'As though we could defeat the Dark Lord with the Disarming Charm!'

'Not neutral magic, Abraxas,' Remus interjected. 'White magic. The sort of magic that Voldemort could never master.'

'The power the Dark Lord knows not,' Aries mumbled, realisation dawning on his face.

'I beg your pardon?' Cassiopeia asked.

'Just something I saw in the Pool,' he said. 'The rest of the prophecy. It said that I should have "a power the Dark Lord knows not." It could have been talking about white magic.'

'There's healing magic,' Remus suggested. 'Perhaps Andromeda could help look into that.'

'There's phoenixes, of course,' Mum added, 'and the power of self-sacrificial love. But I have a hard time seeing how any of those could defeat the Dark Lord on their own.'

'I suppose I could examine the Hogwarts Library,' Cassiopeia observed. 'We might be able to find something. I'm afraid that my own researches into this field have been rather...perfunctory.'

Remus shook his head. 'I'm afraid you won't find much,' he said. 'One can learn a great deal of Dark magic and neutral magic by studying and experimentation, but to plumb the full profundities of white magic requires absolute purity of heart and intention. Such knowledge is gained through contemplation and direct apprehension. Few have been able even to undertake the journey, and fewer still have found what they sought. They left few writings, and what they did leave is usually incomprehensible to those who have not also begun the process of purification.'

Cassiopeia looked impressed. Draco noted that this was yet another uncharacteristic emotion he had seen on his great-aunt's face that day.

'You seem to have studied the subject thoroughly, Professor Lupin,' she observed.

Remus shrugged. 'I've looked into it a bit. At one point I hoped that we could turn white magic into a weapon against the Dark Arts, but I found out rather quickly that it doesn't work that way. White wizards seem usually to be rather unconcerned with Dark wizards.'

A funny smile appeared on Sirius's face, and he suddenly looked very pleased with himself.

'Like Nicolas Flamel, right, Moony?'

Aries and Draco grinned at each other, instantly catching on to their father's train of thought.

'That's exactly right, Padfoot,' Remus said, not realising immediately what Sirius was thinking. 'He was an immensely powerful wizard, but he didn't lift a finger to interfere in the war with Grindelwald or the war with Voldemort. Dumbledore always said that Flamel thought that Dark wizards didn't matter much in the long run.'

'I wonder if we might find something useful in his papers,' Cassiopeia wondered aloud. 'Dumbledore's been going through them for over a year. Perhaps we might find a way to slip in to Flamel's old cottage and steal a peek.'

Draco smirked. 'Somehow, Aunt Cassie, I think that would be a waste of our time.'

'You're right,' Abraxas agreed. 'Dumbledore's probably already stolen or destroyed anything of value.'

Sirius rolled his eyes, and Aries laughed.

'You lot are so dense!' Sirius said. 'Why should we rifle through Flamel's papers when we have the very source of his power?'

Clytemnestra squeaked in delight. 'Oh, of course!' she exclaimed. 'I'd quite forgotten.'

Cassiopeia, for her part, looked rather confused, but after a moment she too had understood what her nephew was on about.

'Naturally,' she said proudly. 'It's the most logical course of action.'

'Will someone tell me what the devil is going on here?' Granddad demanded.

Clytemnestra smiled at him. 'Didn't you wonder where that marvellous Elixir had come from, Brax?' she asked him.

Granddad's eyes widened in utter shock. He turned slowly towards Aries and stared directly at him, bright blue eyes into bright blue eyes.

'Is it true?' he asked in a whisper.

Aries nodded.

'Sirius told me that he'd got the Elixir as part of the blackmail deal,' Granddad sighed in wonderment. 'I'd no idea that you actually had one of your own. How did you get it?'

Aries shrugged. 'Nicked it. Draco and I, during our first year.'

Mum and Remus exchanged confused glances.

'Wait a minute,' Remus said quietly. 'Are you telling me...?'

Aries nodded. 'That's right, Uncle Moony,' he said. 'We've got our own Philosopher's Stone.'


	56. Part II: Chapter 27

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: First, I should like to offer my sincerest apologies for the delay. My muse went on an unanticipated holiday, then, shortly upon her return, I had computer difficulties and lost the chapter I had ready to post. Fortunately, however, I was eventually able to retrieve it. Again, I am very sorry!**

**Secondly, I wish to thank all the wonderful reviewers for your encouragement and for taking the time to interact with the story. I'm very sorry that I haven't been able to respond to you all. I hope to do better, but cannot make any promises at this time.**

**The next update is scheduled for Friday, June 3.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 27

As the school year continued, Sirius began Harry and Draco's special training sessions, meeting six nights a week. Four of those nights were devoted to duelling, with a particular emphasis on defending against the fighting style preferred by Riddle and the Death Eaters. To Sirius's knowledge, virtually all the surviving Death Eaters were in Azkaban, the remainder having been massacred in the Battle of Little Hangleton. Nonetheless, there were a few whose whereabouts remained unconfirmed despite the family's best efforts, and there was always the possibility that Riddle might succeed in liberating his other followers from prison. The thought of his sons being forced to defend themselves from Bellatrix, or the surviving Lestrange brothers, was something that weighed heavily on Sirius's mind.

Monday nights were dedicated to Occlumency. Cassiopeia, a superb Occlumens who had taught the art to Walburga, Alphard, Cygnus and Bellatrix, came up to Hogwarts for the lessons, since neither Sirius nor Remus felt quite up to teaching the subject themselves, though both had a solid grasp of the fundamentals. All in all, Harry and Draco thought the lessons rather boring, something like the long, drawn-out banquets where one had to pretend to pay careful attention to adults who were waxing eloquent about events that had happened long before one was born, in places one had never been, to people one had never known. The boys had sat through many such banquets in their short lifetimes, so Occlumency came naturally to them both, though Draco had a somewhat easier time of it.

Saturday nights were by far the most fun for the boys, for it was on those nights that Sirius began their Animagus training. The process was long and complex, involving difficult spells and a great deal of mental discipline, but the boys knew that the reward waiting for them at the end of their course of study was well worth the effort, and they managed to persevere with diligence and fortitude.

The family had as yet devised no solution to the problem of the Hufflepuff cup, which was still secured safely in Gringotts. Harry jokingly suggested that they ought to break in and steal it, but even Sirius, who of all the family members was by far the most likely to be up for such a quest, had dismissed the idea as utter nonsense. Everyone knew that the goblins' defences were invincible. There was no hurry for the time being, but Sirius found it frustrating that they had yet to think of any way into the Lestrange vault. The easiest way, of course, would have been to secure the assistance of a Lestrange family member, but Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan were all in Azkaban, and Roland, the youngest Lestrange brother, had been killed in April of 1981. Sirius thought it a pity. Roland had been in his year in school, a decent fellow who had wound up Sorted into Ravenclaw. He had tried to remain neutral in the war, but it had ended up destroying him anyway.

The revelation that Harry carried a piece of Riddle's soul within himself necessitated something of a change in their plans. Whilst Harry and Sirius both recognised the advantages of having a direct connexion with the Dark Lord's mind, neither one felt comfortable any longer with Harry spending much time 'in the Horcrux', so to speak. Cassiopeia, for her part, thought that they ought to make as much use of it as possible before destroying it, but Sirius was adamant. Harry, much to the family's surprise, had agreed with Sirius.

'I want it out of me,' Harry whispered upon hearing his great-aunt's suggestion.

'We shall get it out of you,' Cassiopeia replied. 'But think of what we have yet to learn from it! You have within you the store of all the Dark Lord's power and experience.'

'We've already determined that we shan't defeat Riddle on his own home front,' Sirius objected. 'Harry ought to focus his efforts on developing his white magic.'

In the end, Abraxas had suggested a compromise, to which all sides had reluctantly agreed. Harry and Sirius spent a weekend going through Riddle's memories, extracting them and storing them in phials for transfer to Windermere Court. Cassiopeia and Abraxas would view them later in a Pensieve, then catalogue them for future reference. After that weekend, Harry had felt utterly drained, and Sirius had allowed him his first sip of firewhisky, after which they sat up late and Sirius told Harry stories about James and Lily.

For a half-hour every morning and every evening, within the privacy of his own bed-curtains, Harry sat and contemplated the Philosopher's Stone. The process was more difficult and more painful than it had been at the end of his first year, but Harry was determined to master the Stone's secrets. Just as before, it seemed to Harry as though the Stone itself was teaching him, and though it might at times favour the stick over the carrot, Harry nonetheless began to appreciate the effectiveness of its methods. Things seemed clearer with each passing day, whilst Riddle and his Horcrux seemed farther away. Just as before, the Stone became an all-pervasive part of Harry's life. This time, however, Sirius insisted that they spend time each day discussing what Harry was learning, which did a great deal to keep the boy grounded.

Finally, because ultimately Sirius was always Sirius, Harry and Draco were required to spend at least one hour of each day engaged in a non-productive activity that had nothing to do with Voldemort, Horcruxes, studies or training. Furthermore, Sundays were declared an altogether work-free zone. One weekend early in Michaelmas term, Sirius caught the boys researching defensive hexes in the library on Sunday night, and promptly removed twenty points each from Gryffindor and gave them both a week of detentions. Of course, for their detentions the boys were required to sit up late in Sirius's quarters, drinking butterbeer and playing endless hands of Exploding Snap, but the boys had learnt that when it came to making them relax from time to time, Sirius meant business.

For his free hour on most days, Harry played chess with Draco and Dean, or perhaps worked on pranks with them, the Weasleys and Lee Jordan. As term went on, the sextet let up a bit on Bilius and Finnigan, but they made a point to drop a few hints about Dean's pernicious plot to take over the school at least once a fortnight.

'We don't want them to get all complacent,' Fred said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Whenever they played pranks around the school, all six boys now routinely left the Marauder's Mark, though Dean had modified it a bit from Harry's original draft, making it gold with red accents, rather than straight red, and changing the eyebrows so that the smiley face looked merely sardonic, rather than outright evil. Fred and George thought that Dean was losing his nerve, but, after his unpleasant experience in the Pool of Possibilities, Harry concurred with Dean's approach. After all, they wanted the Marauder's Mark to inspire laughter and good cheer throughout the school, not terror, and fortunately, the Mark was received in just such a spirit by just about everyone save Bilius and Finnigan, who continued to believe it to be the sign of the Dark Lord Mini-Mort.

Once or twice a week, Harry made it a point to spend time with Daphne, who was rapidly becoming a good friend. She and Harry had a very different relationship from that which Harry shared with Draco or his other friends. It was quieter, more reflective. They talked a good bit, and cooked, and though Harry was unable to share most of his worries with her, he found their time together to be a very pleasant respite from saving the world.

That said, they still had the occasional disagreement.

'You want to let the cream simmer, but not boil,' Harry explained testily one night, as Daphne waited for the saucepan to heat up.

'Isn't there a charm to make this go faster?' she asked impatiently.

'Yes,' Harry replied with a smirk. 'If you don't care how the food tastes.'

Daphne groaned. 'What's the point of being a witch if I can't use magic to speed up the cooking process?'

'You want fast?' Harry scoffed. He flicked his wand, and everything in the kitchen sped up. Five minutes later, stuffed leg of lamb lay steaming on the table, accompanied by freshly-baked potatoes dauphinoise and a cucumber and yoghurt salad.

Daphne took a deep breath. 'It smells divine.'

'But it will taste like sh...dirt,' Harry replied. He had been making a real effort not to curse in front of Daphne, which took far more concentration than one might have thought.

'Let's see,' Daphne said primly, and sat down at the table, draping the serviette in her lap.

Harry rolled his eyes, but walked over to the place across from her. He had just begun carving the lamb when the door opened and two other students appeared. It was Draco and Astoria.

'Daphne?' Astoria exclaimed in surprise. 'What are you doing here?'

'I might ask you the same question,' Daphne retorted, an eyebrow raised.

Draco sniffed the air.

'It smells pretty good, Aries,' he said approvingly.

'Olfactory-enhancement charm,' Harry replied with a sigh.

Draco scrunched up his nose. 'But why would you use one of those? Did you burn the lamb?'

Harry shrugged. 'Miss Greengrass here was impatient for dinner.'

Draco's eyes went wide in shock, then he smirked.

'Granny would have your hide if she knew what you did. She hates flash cooking charms with a passion.'

'As do all right-thinking wizards,' Harry replied, giving Daphne a pointed glare. 'I only did it in order to teach a lesson. Would you care to join us?'

Draco nodded and sat down. Astoria joined him.

'What are they on about?' she whispered to her sister.

'I'm not quite sure,' Daphne answered. 'But we'll find out soon enough.'

Harry served them all generous portions of lamb, potatoes and salad. Astoria was the first to taste it. Her expression melted in delight.

'Ooh,' she squealed. 'This is the most delicious food I've ever eaten.'

Draco raised a curious eyebrow at Harry. 'Flavorous Charm?'

'Naturally,' Harry replied. 'It'd hardly be palatable otherwise.'

Daphne gave the potatoes a try, and smiled.

'Not bad at all, Mr Black,' she said wryly. 'I think I'd very much like to learn this sort of cooking.'

Harry groaned and began banging his forehead against the table.

'I give up,' he muttered. 'This is the end. The absolute, forward-flipping end.' He stopped banging his head, took a deep breath and looked towards his brother. 'Draco, perhaps you could be so kind as to tell the Misses Greengrass what exactly is wrong with this enchanted food.'

Draco took a couple of cautious bites of lamb and chewed each one carefully before he replied.

'The lamb is tough,' he said. 'Over-cooked, and with very little of its natural juiciness. You've compensated a bit with a Tenderising Charm, but the end result is something like shoe leather that's been boiled for a day. The Flavorous Charm gives it the illusion of tasting all right, but it still has a dodgy aftertaste.' He took a bite of the potatoes and nearly gagged. 'They're all grainy,' he said. 'And far too mushy. The cream curdled a bit, and there's too much salt. The cheese is denatured.' He went for the cucumber salad. 'This one's not so bad,' he said reflectively. 'Though rushing the seasonings never helps anything.'

'I still say it's better than anything we eat at home,' Astoria said in a petulant tone.

'I'll bet your house elf flash-cooks everything,' Harry growled.

'Not necessarily, Aries,' Draco observed. 'Their mum apparently has issues with flavour. Something about fitting into dress robes.'

Harry chuckled. 'Then you should know, ladies, that the charms on that food make it half as filling as properly-cooked food.'

'Which means you'll eat twice as much of it,' Draco added.

Both girls dropped their forks instantly. Harry waved his wand and Vanished the enchanted food.

'Perhaps now you'll have the patience to learn how to cook things properly,' Harry observed, and both Greengrass girls nodded meekly.

* * *

On a brisk afternoon in late October, just a couple of days before Halloween, Mrs Robinson had just left Miller & Son's with her weekly supply of cat food. Relieved to be rid of the old woman at last – she had been most displeased with the cost of her purchase and, as always, was determined to make her feelings clear as crystal – Jack Miller began closing up the shop. He had just finished restacking the tins of cat food in something approaching decent order when the bell rang. Jack turned around to see a most extraordinary pair of customers standing in the doorway. One was very tall and thin, with tremendously-long white hair and a splendid beard. He was dressed as though on safari, complete with khaki uniform and pith helmet, though for some reason he had dyed the whole outfit periwinkle. He wore shorts, though the weather was bitingly cold, and beneath one armpit he carried a riding crop. Bizarre fashion sense aside, he seemed like a friendly enough chap, with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips.

His companion, however, was quite another story. He was much younger, and, to all appearances, far less amiable. He wore a vicious scowl, along with a heavily-patched black overcoat that looked as though it had been new sometime in the late sixties. Judging by the greasiness of the man's hair, Jack figured that the man had probably last taken a bath around the same time. He had an enormous nose that made him look somewhat like an overgrown vulture, and glared at Jack as though the latter were a soaked dog that had suddenly decided to dry himself off in the drawing room.

'Good afternoon,' Jack said, pointedly addressing the friendlier of the two customers. 'Is there anything I can do for you? We're about to close.'

'Excellent,' replied the old man. 'I'm afraid that we haven't any business in your shop, but I was hoping you might be able to direct us to the Gaunt residence.'

Jack went white. For the life of him, he couldn't understand where all this sudden interest in the Gaunt hovel came from. First the Wicked Witch and His Lordship, now this lot. 'That old shack?' he said with a false smile. 'What do you want there?'

'Our business is our own, naturally,' the man replied. 'But we shall be most delighted to...er...compensate anyone who would be so kind as to show us the way there.'

Jack was shaking his head before he even realised what he was doing.

'There's no way in hell I'm going back there,' he said firmly. 'Not after what happened last time. I don't care how much _compensation_ you offer.'

The greasy customer snarled. 'We haven't the time for this, Albus. Why don't we just dispense with the pleasantries?'

'Albus' frowned. 'I'd rather avoid that, Severus.' He pulled out a pocketwatch and sighed. 'However, we _do_ have something of a schedule to keep. You may proceed.'

'Severus' looked at his aged companion quizzically. 'Do you not intend to do it yourself?'

'Technically speaking, what you are suggesting is illegal,' 'Albus' replied. 'As Chief Warlock, it would be inappropriate for me to participate.' He wandered over to examine a shelf of sweets. 'Ah, sherbet lemons,' he said. 'I am so very fond of them.'

The greasy-haired man rolled his dark eyes, then whipped out a stick from the sleeve of his coat and pointed it at Jack's forehead.

'_Legilimens_,' he hissed.

When Jack left the shop in a daze half-an-hour later, he remembered nothing of particular interest concerning the Gaunt shack or any out-of-town visitors. Furthermore, he failed to notice a missing packet of sherbet lemons, or the ridiculously-large banknote that had been left in its place.

* * *

That same night, back at Hogwarts, Harry and Draco were duelling Sirius two-on-one in an empty classroom. The boys knew each other very well, and usually fought together seamlessly. A single glance or gesture was enough for them to communicate their intentions to each other. That night, however, something seemed to be off. Draco went to the left, expecting Harry to cover him, but the other boy was too slow, and Sirius quickly Disarmed them both.

'_Incarcerous_,' he said, and soon the boys were tied up and hanging from the ceiling.

Sirius strolled towards them casually, confusion on his face.

'What happened, you two?' he asked them. 'I haven't beat you this easily since you started school.'

Draco looked pointedly at his brother. 'I was wondering the exact same thing.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry mumbled. 'I got distracted.'

Sirius frowned. 'That's been happening a lot lately.'

'It's the Stone, isn't it?' Draco asked.

Harry nodded. 'I think so. It's strange. Lately I've been feeling detached from myself, like I don't even know who I am anymore.'

'Can you put us down, Dad?' Draco asked. 'My arms are starting to go numb.'

Sirius flicked his wand and set the boys free. He then Conjured three armchairs and they sat down.

'I don't like it,' Draco said, rubbing his wrists. 'It's just like what happened before.'

Sirius furrowed his brow. 'Have you had any luck figuring out how to remove the Horcrux?' he asked.

Harry shook his head. 'Not yet,' he said. 'But I feel like I'm on the right track. The longer I use the Stone, the farther away the Horcrux feels. Lately I've only been able to notice it when I'm asleep, and even then it's loads fainter than it was a few months ago.' He paused, chewing his lower lip. 'I don't want to stop.'

'I still think you ought to,' Draco said adamantly. 'You've not been sleeping well, and you're distracted all the time. It can't be good for you.'

Sirius gazed back and forth between his sons, a pensive look in his grey eyes.

'The Philosopher's Stone brings healing to the infirm and wisdom to the foolish,' he recited slowly. 'But just as malformed pottery must be shattered before it can be refashioned, so the one who seeks healing of his soul must allow himself to be broken before he can be cured. The lover of wisdom consigns himself to folly in order to acquire true knowledge, and in self-abnegation finds his prize.'

Harry nodded reflectively, but Draco looked confused.

'What was that, Dad?' he asked.

Sirius sighed deeply. 'It's a quote from one of the books I read on the Philosopher's Stone when I was just a couple of years older than you lot,' he said. 'The summer I ran away from home, I was short on gold. My parents had disowned me, and Uncle Alphard hadn't made me his heir yet. I thought I might make a Philosopher's Stone for the gold.'

Harry gave his dad an amused smile. 'No one who's ever looked at it that way has succeeded in creating the Stone.'

'I know.' Sirius chuckled. 'But I was sixteen, and hardly knew any better. I spent most of the autumn reading everything I could find about the Stone. I came across that quote, and it frightened me. I realised that I wasn't ready to let go of myself, and I decided I'd just have to get a job. Of course, Uncle Alphard died that spring and left me everything, so I was spared such a horrible fate.' He paused. 'Harry, I know that if you choose to continue with the Stone it will ultimately help you, but it'll be a hell of a trip, and it will change who you are.' He grinned. 'Theoretically it's for the better, but I like you just the way you are.'

'So do I,' whispered Draco.

Harry smiled sadly. 'Thanks for the vote of confidence.' He turned his head and stared out the window at the stars. There were so many of them. Infinite lights in the night sky, endless possibilities... He reached out and clasped Draco's hand, then turned to look into his dad's eyes.

'I still want to go through with it.'


	57. Part II: Chapter 28

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Sincerest thanks to all my readers and reviewers! The pace is definitely picking up. I should think we'll finish Part II within the next several chapters.**

**The next update is scheduled for Tuesday, June 7.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 28

One lazy Sunday afternoon in Gryffindor Tower, Harry was lounging on a sofa as he tore eagerly through the latest Wolfgang Hexley thriller, _Ill-Met By Moonlight_, whilst Dean and Draco played a game of chess. Hermione Granger was working on homework – what else? – and Bilius and Finnigan were trying to get her to let them copy off of her, with very little success. Lee and the twins were huddled in one corner, doubtless working on some prank or other. All in all, it was a pretty normal day.

'Checkmate,' Dean announced in a smug voice, and Draco frowned.

'I've never understood where the hell a Muggleborn like you got to be so good at chess,' he growled.

Dean only chuckled in amusement, but Hermione Granger was livid.

'Why should his birth have anything to do with it, Malfoy-Black?' she demanded shrilly. 'Muggles have chess too, you know. Or are you implying that Muggleborns are less intelligent than purebloods?'

Draco ignored her with practised ease. 'Want to play again?' he asked Dean.

'It's Aries' turn,' the black boy pointed out. He turned around and looked over his shoulder to where Harry lay stretched out on the sofa. 'Do you want to have a go?'

Harry shook his head, not bothering to look up from his book. 'You go ahead, dread Dean,' he said. The deferential adjectives came automatically now. 'Prometheus Powers just got bitten, and I want to see if his anti-lycanthropy amulet worked.'

Dean turned back to the chessboard and began setting up his pieces, but Granger harrumphed loudly.

'You do know, Black, that none of that rubbish is real?' she said. 'The Ministry have conducted extensive experiments, and no one has yet found any anti-lycanthropy amulet to work even as well as the placebo amulets. In fact, one study...'

'For Merlin's sake, come off it, Granger,' Harry snapped. 'I'm trying to enjoy my book.'

The girl was undeterred. 'Well, I don't think it's very responsible of the publisher to put such dubious information into a book.'

Harry ignored her and turned the page. Granger glared at him briefly, then returned to her homework.

'Just ignore them,' Bilius said. 'They're just worthless sacks of dragonshit. Everyone knows their fathers served You-Know-Who.'

Seconds later, Draco had overturned the chessboard and pressed his wandpoint into Bilius's chest.

'Take that back,' he snarled.

'Why should I?' Bilius snapped back. 'It's true.'

'Lucius was a Death Eater,' Draco said evenly. 'That much is true. But he's dead now, and Dad never served Voldemort.'

'So he went to Azkaban for nothing, did he?' Finnigan taunted him.

'Shut up, you two,' Granger said, much to Harry and Draco's mutual surprise. 'Professor Black is our teacher, and while I may find his methods to be a bit...unorthodox at times, he has nonetheless proved to be an excellent professor. Besides, the Headmistress would hardly have hired him if she thought he was a Death Eater.'

'Why are you on their side?' Finnigan demanded. 'Black and Malfoy-Black hate Muggleborns.'

Granger rolled her eyes. 'Considering that Dean Thomas is one of their closest friends, I hardly think that's the case.'

'Thomas is different,' said Bilius petulantly. 'Besides, he's not really a Muggleborn.'

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'Know something I don't, Bilius?' he asked.

'We overheard you and the others talking,' Finnigan said. 'We know your father is You-Know-Who.'

'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?' Hermione was incredulous. 'But why would You-Know-Who leave his son to be raised by Muggles?'

'Maybe that's just what he wants us to think,' Bilius said darkly.

'You are such an idiot, Ronniekins!' Fred called from the other side of the room.

'Same goes for you, Finnigan,' George added.

'You two couldn't be easier to prank if you were in your third year of life instead of your third year of school,' Harry added, his eyes still fixed on his book.

Granger narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

'I told you so,' she said to Bilius and Finnigan. 'It was all a dumb prank. I can't believe you two took this whole Mini-Mort thing so seriously.'

'It's like we said,' George piped up.

'They're idiots,' Fred added.

'B-b-but,' Bilius stammered. 'It can't be! We saw Thomas's eyes glow.'

'What, like this?' Lee asked, looking over his shoulder. His eyes were a fierce red. 'Colour-Changing Lenses.'

'But Mini-Mort zapped us with his death gaze,' Finnigan pointed out, then both he and Bilius yelped.

On the sofa, Harry was twirling his wand between his fingers, though his gaze remained fixed on his book. 'Stinging Hex,' he said. 'It's really not that difficult.'

'But why would you play along with a prank like that?' Granger asked Dean. 'Pretending to be You-Know-Who's son, isn't that a bit of an insult to your real father?'

Dean shrugged. 'I never knew my real father, and he abandoned me and my mum before I was born. I don't even know who he is.'

'So it could be You-Know-Who!' Finnigan exclaimed, only to be silenced by several angry glares.

'For Merlin's sake,' Draco spat. 'If you lot are going to be this concerned about Dean, why don't we just cast a couple of simple Paternity Charms on him?'

Granger was impressed despite herself. 'You know how to do Paternity Charms?'

Harry finally put down his novel and sat up straight. 'You forget who we are, Granger,' he said. 'In our family, nothing matters more than one's bloodline.'

'We've been able to cast basic Paternity Charms since before we started school,' Draco added. 'My mother always said it was important to make sure one's playmates were of acceptable birth.'

Granger looked disgusted, but Dean seemed curious.

'So you could actually figure out who my real father is?' he asked.

'Possibly,' Harry replied. 'It's not quite that straightforward, but we could definitely point you in the right direction.'

Dean smiled and stood up. 'I'm ready,' he said. 'Do your worst.'

'Don't, Draco,' Harry warned. 'Granger will snitch on you if you do any of the illegal ones.'

'But the legal ones aren't nearly as accurate,' Draco complained.

'No whinging,' Harry shot back.

Bilius and Finnigan gave Granger an 'I-told-you-so' look. Granger shrugged and sat back to watch as Draco waved his wand over Dean's hand and muttered an incantation. Dean's hand began to glow bright silver.

'Solid half-blood,' Draco reported.

Dean was surprised. 'Really? So my father was a wizard after all?'

'Not only that, he was a pureblood,' Harry said. 'That should make it easier to figure out who it is. There aren't very many purebloods.' He glanced at Bilius and Finnigan. 'It also rules out Voldemort. He was a half-blood.'

'You're joking!' Bilius exclaimed, but the others ignored him.

Draco took a mirror from his pocket and resumed his wand-waving.

'You _would_ have a mirror on hand,' Harry teased him.

'Shut it,' Draco snapped.

The face of a striking black woman appeared in the mirror.

'That's my mum,' Dean said. 'Only she looks well young, loads younger than she is now.'

'That's what she looked like before you were born,' Draco explained. He muttered another incantation, and now the image of a very young man appeared on the mirror. He had sharp, aristocratic features, with blue eyes and tousled light-brown hair. He seemed pleasant, if also a bit too quick to look down his Roman nose at anyone he considered to be beneath him.

Draco stared at the image for a moment. 'He looks vaguely familiar,' he said at last. 'But I don't recognise him.'

'Let me have a look,' Harry said, and took the mirror from his brother. He gave it a pensive look, then shook his head. 'Doesn't ring any bells,' he announced. 'You ought to ask Dad. He knew everyone who was anyone back then.'

Draco handed the mirror over to Dean, who looked at his father's image with longing in his eyes.

'He looks nice,' he said quietly. 'I wonder why he left us.'

'There was a war going on,' Fred pointed out.

'It could have been any number of reasons,' George said consolingly.

'May I keep this?' Dean asked Draco.

The blond boy hesitated. 'Er, well, it's my best mirror,' he began.

Harry threw a cushion from the sofa and hit Draco on the head.

'Shut up, you ponce,' he said. 'Give Dean the bloody mirror, and I'll buy you a new one.'

Draco paused, then reluctantly nodded.

'Thanks, mate,' Dean said, and clutched the mirror tight. 'Is there a way to save the image, so it doesn't disappear?' he asked.

'Here, I'll do it,' volunteered Granger. She tapped the mirror with the tip of her wand, and it glowed briefly. 'That should make the image permanent.'

'Cheers, Hermione,' said Dean.

'Do you want to go ask our dad who it is?' Draco offered.

'No thanks,' Dean whispered. 'I'll go see him later, on my own.'

He ran the mirror up to their quarters and secured it carefully in his trunk. When he came back downstairs, Draco had already set the chessboard back up.

'I'll get you this time,' the cocky pureblood said with a winning grin.

* * *

That night, after returning the Philosopher's Stone to its secret hiding place, Harry fell asleep and had a very vivid dream. He was standing in the woods behind Malfoy Manor, just up the hill from the little stream that ran along the border of the garden. He and Draco had spent many happy hours there as children, and there were few places where he felt so safe.

'Hello, Aries,' said a voice from up the hill, and Harry spun around. 'My, how you've grown.'

Up on top of the hill, stepping out of a thick group of trees, was none other than Marius Black.

'Uncle Marius!' Harry shouted, and ran up the hill as fast as he could. No sooner had he reached the top than his beloved uncle pulled him into a tight embrace, and Harry hugged him back for all he was worth.

'I've missed you so much,' he sobbed. 'I'm sorry. It's all my fault you're dead.'

'Hush now,' Marius replied. 'Hush. And no more of this crying nonsense. You're a strapping young man, after all. Here, let me help.' He waved his hand, and the tears vanished from Harry's cheeks.

The boy's eyes widened. 'Uncle Marius, you did magic!'

The old Squib smiled at his nephew. 'Here, Aries, there are no Squibs, no cripples, no brokenness. Here, everyone is whole.'

'Where is here?' Harry asked. 'How can I see you if you're dead? Am I dead too?'

'No, my lad,' replied his uncle. 'You are very much alive, and I intend for you to remain that way for a long time yet. I didn't trade my life so you could lose yours to that damned Horcrux.'

Harry's hand went to his forehead.

'You know about that,' he whispered.

Marius chuckled. 'We're in your mind, Aries. You have no more secrets from me.'

'What are you doing here?' Harry asked.

'I'm here to help,' Marius said. 'You wish to be free of your burden, and I don't blame you. It's really quite hideous when you see it clearly like this, isn't it?'

He gestured towards Harry's chest, and for the first time Harry noticed the enormous snake that was coiled around his shoulders. Its grip was quite loose, and it didn't feel heavy at all.

'The Horcrux is weak now,' Marius said, as though reading Harry's thoughts, which, now that Harry thought of it, he probably was. 'When you allow it to grow strong, it crushes you, and is more difficult for you to bear. You've probably noticed.'

Harry nodded. 'My temper gets short when it's stronger, and I tend to shout a lot.'

'It's not entirely your fault,' Marius said. 'The Horcrux lowers your inhibitions whilst simultaneously exacerbating your baser feelings. It is not a very pleasant combination, I must say.'

Harry had to agree. If it was so difficult for him to deal with, he could only imagine what it must be like for those around him.

'So how do I get rid of it?' he asked.

Marius smiled down at him, though he wouldn't be able to manage that for much longer. Harry was nearly as tall as he was.

'Not so fast, Aries,' he said. 'The Stone will eventually be able to purge you of the Horcrux, but not until you're ready to let it go.'

'I'm ready now,' Harry insisted.

'I don't think so,' Marius replied. 'You hardly know who you are without the Horcrux. For you to lose it will be to lose a part of yourself. Your first task must be to learn who you are.'

'I'm Aries Black,' Harry said automatically.

Marius raised an eyebrow. 'Are you really?'

Harry sighed. 'No, I suppose not. I'm Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Bloody-Lived.'

Marius's expression remained unchanged. 'Is that so?'

Harry scowled at his uncle. 'I don't recall your being quite this annoying when you were alive.'

'Sorry,' said Marius unapologetically.

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 'It's good to have you back, Uncle Mar.'

'It's good to be back,' Marius said, 'though I'm rather afraid that we can't stand around chatting all night. We do have business to attend to.'

The scene around them instantly changed. It was now pitch-black, and they were in Godric's Hollow. Harry gasped when he realised where they were.

'Not here,' he whispered, tears once again running down his face. 'Anywhere but here.'

Marius put a strong hand on his nephew's shoulder.

'I know, son,' he said soothingly. 'This is hard for you. I'd give anything for you to skip over dealing with it, since it causes you pain. But there is no other way. This is where it all begins.' He smiled as a young, good-looking wizard in jeans and a T-shirt ran up the walk. 'Besides,' he said, 'we are not yet at that night. You've many good times to look forward to before we must go through that.'

Sirius knocked on the door, and James answered it.

'Well?' Sirius demanded.

'Not yet,' James replied anxiously. 'The Healer is here, though, and she says it won't be much longer.'

He held the door open, and Sirius dashed in.

Harry looked up at his uncle questioningly.

'Happy birthday, Harry,' Marius said in reply. He tousled Harry's hair and the two walked into the house through the front door.

Inside, James was sitting on the sofa, drumming his fingers anxiously against his leg. Sirius had gone straight to the liquor cabinet, and was pouring himself and his best friend each a shot of firewhisky. He pressed one of the glasses into James's right hand.

'Here, drink this,' he said. 'It'll steady your nerves.'

'Cheers, Padfoot,' James said, and threw back the whisky. He let out a deep sigh.

Sirius chuckled. 'You know, mate, I don't think I've seen you this nervous since the day you proposed to your lovely bride.'

James looked at his friend strangely. 'I didn't tell you until afterwards,' he said.

'I picked out the ring, Prongs,' Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

James shrugged. 'True enough, but that was months ahead of time,' he said. 'I didn't tell you when I was actually going to go through with it.'

'I can read you like a book, James,' Sirius said fondly. 'You spent all day going back and forth between whistling and retching. It wasn't that hard to figure out.'

The messy-haired young wizard scowled. 'I wasn't that bad.'

'Yes, you were.'

'All right, I was,' James admitted sullenly.

'I could never see why,' Sirius went on. 'By then everyone knew that Evans was over the moon for you. You had to have known she'd say yes.'

'I did,' James whispered. 'That's not why I was nervous.'

'What was the reason, then?' Sirius asked.

James took a deep breath. 'You.'

Sirius coughed, spewing firewhisky all over the coffee table.

'ME?' he exclaimed. 'Why were you nervous about me?'

'I didn't know how you'd react,' James said with a shrug. 'We'd just got settled into our flat, and you...well, I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned you.'

Sirius Summoned the bottle of firewhisky from the liquor cabinet.

'More whisky?' he offered, and James nodded his assent. Sirius swallowed his own liquor before speaking again. 'I've never seen you as happy as you've been with Evans...er, Lily,' he said. 'And now you've a kid on the way.' He smiled. 'Prongs, I'm delighted for you. I wouldn't have it any other way.'

'You really mean that,' James said, fixing his friend with a curious stare.

'Of course I do, you idiot,' Sirius snapped back. 'You're my best mate. You know I'd lay down my life for you.' He took a deep breath. 'And the same goes for Lily and little James Cygnus, Junior. They're my family now, same as you.'

'You might not always feel that way,' James said cautiously. 'You might want your own family one day.'

'Are you trying to get rid of me, Prongs?' Sirius demanded. 'I told you, Lily was the one who ate that whole chicken, not me. It's shocking how much food pregnant women can get through. You'd think they were teenage boys.'

'Shut up, you git!' James retorted. 'This isn't about poultry.'

'What's it about, then?'

'Nothing,' James said. 'Just that one day you'll probably have your own family, and they'll come first. And I understand that.'

'God, you're as thick as Wormtail,' Sirius muttered. He shook his head in exasperation. 'The odds of my settling down with a nice girl and getting out of your hair are pretty slim, Mr Potter.'

James smiled. 'I know, Padfoot. I just feel selfish, keeping you close by. I don't want you to feel obligated to stick around.'

'Too effing late for that,' Sirius snorted. 'It's like I said, your family is my family. Your kid is my kid.'

'You'd better pray that's not true,' James teased him with a grin. 'And I'll know if it is. My mum taught me the full range of Black paternity charms.'

It took Sirius a moment to catch on to James's joke, and when he did, he shuddered visibly.

'That's just disgusting, Prongs,' he said. 'The thought of me and Evans...' He shuddered again.

'Glad to hear it,' James said wryly. There was a lull in their conversation, and James chewed his lip thoughtfully. 'There's a prophecy,' he said at last. 'Dumbledore thinks it may be about the baby.'

'What sort of prophecy?' Sirius asked.

James told him all the details, how their baby might be the only one capable of defeating Voldemort.

Sirius let out a low whistle. 'He'll have Voldemort after him from the moment he's born,' he said. 'You'll all be in a lot of danger.'

'We'll do everything we can to protect Harry,' James said adamantly. His face fell. 'But it will be dangerous. If anything happens to me, Padfoot...'

Sirius put his arm around his best friend's shoulders and pulled him close.

'Don't worry, Prongs,' he said. 'If anything happens to you, I'll do everything I can to keep the boy safe. Your kid is my kid, remember?'

James smiled at Sirius gratefully. 'Thanks, mate. But actually I was hoping you could do a bit more than keep him safe. I'd like you to be his godfather.'

Sirius's eyes went wide. 'You want me to be his godfather?' he exclaimed. 'But you know me, Prongs! I'm not fit to supervise anyone's moral and religious instruction. Hell, the vicar would probably take one look at me and throw me out of the church.'

'I mean it, Sirius,' James said firmly. 'I want you to be godfather. And if anything happens to us, I want you to take my place. Raise the kid as though he was your own. Will you do it, Padfoot? For me?'

Sirius took a deep breath and swallowed hard, then nodded.

'I'd be honoured, Prongs.'


	58. Part II: Chapter 29

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Finally! Well, I'm only off by ten days. ;) Very sorry. Real life has been rather mad. Last night was the first time I've got a decent night's sleep in nearly a fortnight - and surprisingly, I've found myself to have more energy and more of a desire to write! The next update will be sometime next week. I shan't promise when, as I seem to have a rather poor record in that regard.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 29

After his Monday afternoon classes, Sirius walked down to Hogsmeade, purchased a lovely bouquet of roses and Apparated to London for his weekly dinner with Narcissa. Number seventeen, Windermere Court was in splendid form. Though Cassiopeia was now the only witch to live there full time, since Narcissa had moved to Grimmauld Place and Clytemnestra had moved back to Malfoy Manor, Mopsy kept things in perfect order for her beloved family. Furthermore, because she had so few opportunities to demonstrate her culinary skills – Cassiopeia was generally content with a bit of toast and some weak tea – she pulled out all the stops for the Monday dinners, which were always exquisite.

Mopsy greeted Sirius at the front door and escorted him into the drawing room, where Narcissa awaited him. The lovely witch was sitting at a large easel beside the window overlooking the garden. Mopsy placed the roses in a vase of cut crystal, poured her master and mistress each a goblet of goblin-made sherry and went to finish up her preparations in the kitchen. Sirius took his glass and turned towards his wife.

'What are you painting?' he asked, coming up behind her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

Narcissa smiled at his touch, but kept her attention resolutely focussed on her art.

'Have you ever noticed the way the setting sun sparkles off the water in the fountain?' she asked.

Sirius chuckled. Only Narcissa could look at that horrid monstrosity and notice the way the light played in the water.

'I can't say I have,' he replied.

His wife frowned. 'You've never much cared for the fountain,' she observed.

'I have a bit of a hard time getting past the serpents strangling Laocoön's children,' Sirius admitted. 'I don't mind the way they slither—it's more the dying screams of the boys. A trifle too lifelike for my tastes.'

Narcissa had to concede the point. 'At least the boys only cry out at dawn, noon and sunset,' she said. 'It could be much worse. Do you remember the fountain my father installed in _our_ garden?'

Sirius shuddered. 'The eagle devouring Prometheus's liver,' he said. 'With the red-dyed water flowing out of his gaping wounds.'

His wife nodded grimly, setting down her paintbrush and taking her own glass of sherry from the table. 'Father enchanted the sculpture so that the Titan would cry out in agony every hour on the hour. I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and think I hear it screaming.'

'And I thought my mum was mad,' Sirius muttered beneath his breath, then took a sip from his glass.

Narcissa lifted her eyebrows, her lips curling in amusement.

'She was, Sirius,' she said. 'Father said he got the idea from games Aunt Walburga used to play with him when they were children.'

Sirius shook his head sadly. 'What did my father ever see in her?'

'A suitably pure-blooded mother for the heir he was honour-bound to produce,' Narcissa replied primly. 'At least that's what Mother says.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I'm afraid I don't care too much for anything Aunt Druella says.'

Narcissa chuckled. 'Mother may be insane, but she knows quite a bit of interesting family gossip, and she was intimately familiar with the details of your parents' situation. She was your mother's maid-of-honour, after all.'

'I know,' Sirius sighed. 'Thank God they didn't make her my godmother.'

'Mother says that Aunt Walburga considered it, but Granddad insisted that she pick Aunt Dorea.'

Sirius smiled at that. 'I bet Mum regretted that one after I ran away.'

'Of course she did,' Narcissa replied, picking up her brush again and putting the finishing touches on some flowers. 'Though she was far too terrified of Aunt Dorea to say anything. Your friend James was a Potter through and through, but his mother left no doubt in anyone's mind that she was the daughter of Cygnus Black.'

'You didn't want to get on her bad side, but Aunt Dorea could be very sweet,' Sirius said defensively.

'So could Bella,' Narcissa reminded him, her eyes a bit misty. 'Perhaps not so often after she joined the Death Eaters, but whilst we were in school, and definitely beforehand. She and Andromeda would take turns sitting up with me all night when I was frightened and homesick my first year.'

Sirius felt uncomfortable discussing Bella, and more so comparing her to James's mum, so he deftly changed the subject.

'Aunt Dorea was a wonderful godmother,' he said firmly. 'Uncle Alphard was a pretty decent godfather too.'

Narcissa's eyes glinted with mischief. 'Now there's a decision Aunt Burga regretted,' she said. 'Not that she had much choice about it.'

Sirius was curious, despite himself. Narcissa had always been the queen of family gossip, and that was why everyone in the family adored her. It was far too dangerous to do otherwise.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked.

'Oh, Mother says that Uncle Orion was adamant that Uncle Alphard would be godfather at your christening.'

Sirius snorted. 'When did Dad ever stand up to Mum about anything?'

'Apparently that was the only time,' Narcissa replied casually. 'He and Uncle Alphard were very close.'

'Of course they were,' said Sirius. 'They were best friends in school, as James and I were. Uncle Alphard was Dad's best man.'

'They had nicknames too, as you did,' Narcissa observed, her lips twitching.

'That's right!' Sirius exclaimed. 'I'd forgotten. They used them all the time. Dad was Aquila.'

Narcissa smirked mischievously. 'And Uncle Alphard was Aquarius.'

Sirius's eyes widened in realisation, then he drained his glass with a single gulp and glanced at the clock.

'Oh my,' he exclaimed quickly, his normally low voice squeaking ever so slightly. 'Look what time it is. We'd better move into the dining room. I'm sure Mopsy will be ready soon.'

Narcissa rolled her eyes at her squeamish husband, but obediently extended her hand, which Sirius promptly took into his own. He helped her to her feet, and they took their places at the dining room table. Mopsy brought in the first course, and they began to eat with good appetite.

'Abraxas is doing well,' Narcissa said, between salad and soup. 'He got out of St Mungo's yesterday evening, and Aunt Clytemnestra says that he is resting comfortably at home.'

'That's good to hear,' Sirius replied. 'He's fortunate to get off with only a fortnight in hospital. Dragon pox, at his age.'

'Very fortunate,' Narcissa agreed. 'I'm glad. The boys are so fond of him, and he has many good years left.'

Sirius then asked about the refurbishing of the house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Narcissa launched into a fully-detailed explanation of her plans. She noticed, however, that her husband appeared preoccupied with something else. His brow was furrowed with concern, and his eyes had regained something of the haunted expression they had possessed when he first left Azkaban.

'What is it, Sirius?' she asked him. The wizard jerked his head in surprise.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Is it the house?' she pressed. 'Do you really hate it that much?'

'What are you talking about?' Sirius demanded.

'Well, I've been watching you as I was talking, and you've been getting more upset with each passing moment,' Narcissa explained patiently. 'I can only assume that your disquiet stems from the subject of our conversation.'

Sirius shook his head sheepishly. 'Sorry, Cissy. I wasn't paying that much attention. My mind was elsewhere.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No thanks,' Sirius replied, then looked down at his steak. After a few silent minutes he spoke.

'Cissy, what you were saying earlier, about Uncle Alphard...do you think that's why he...er, you know?'

Narcissa took a deep breath. 'I really can't say, Sirius.'

Sirius took a long sip of wine. 'It's only – well, I thought you might know more about what happened. I didn't even know he was dead until his solicitors contacted me. And when they told me how he died...I suppose...I thought maybe the family...'

'I wish I knew,' Narcissa replied. 'I really doubt that the family were the problem, since his elf Ganymede found his body on the balcony of his villa in the Caribbean.'

Sirius went white. 'The place he left me? The one we visited on our honeymoon?'

Narcissa nodded casually, but Sirius looked as though he was going to be sick.

'You didn't say anything,' he said.

'I assumed you knew.'

Sirius shook his head. 'He did it on Christmas Day. I assumed he was at Grimmauld Place. I wouldn't have taken you to the Caribbean if I had known.'

'Why ever not?' Narcissa retorted haughtily. 'Merlin, Sirius, if we're going to avoid every family residence or property where someone has died under questionable circumstances, we'd have nowhere to live.'

'Who died in this house?' Sirius asked.

Narcissa snorted. 'Who didn't? Great-Uncle Phineas was killed with a Blood-Boiling Curse by Great-Uncle Sirius, who was then stabbed twenty-seven times by his brother's mistress. The mistress got the Killing Curse, naturally, but it was too late. Uncle Sirius was rather slow at eighty-five. Great-Aunt Elladora was poisoned at teatime. No one is quite sure who did it, but Grandfather always said that the family suspected a certain Mrs Robert Hitchens. Then there was Medea Black, Phineas Nigellus's great-great-grandmother, who was rumoured to have murdered over a dozen of her daughter's prospective suitors. And then there was Charon Black, who...'

Sirius cut her off. 'You've made your point, Cissy.' He paused. 'It's just that I was always fond of Uncle Alphard. It was a blow when I heard he had...er, died, and I wish I understood why.'

Narcissa smiled at her husband gently. 'Uncle Alphard was very fond of you too,' she said. 'Father always thought it was because you reminded him so much of the way he and Uncle Orion had been as boys.'

'Somehow I can't picture Dad as a boy,' Sirius muttered, then sighed. 'But apparently I never knew him all that well.'

'Talk to Granny Black,' Narcissa suggested. 'Everyone knows she worshipped the ground Uncle Orion walked on. I'm sure she'd be delighted to share some stories. We can go to the chateau for Christmas.'

Sirius nodded, and picked up a bite of steak with his fork.

'That's a good idea, Cissy,' he said. 'I may do just that.'

* * *

After Defence class Thursday morning, Harry and Draco waited outside the door whilst Dean nervously approached their father's desk, enchanted mirror in hand. Sirius was looking down at a stack of parchment, and didn't notice the tall boy standing there.

'Er, Professor Black?' Dean said hesitantly.

Sirius's head snapped up.

'Oh, Mr Thomas,' he said. 'I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Must not be much of a Defence master if I don't even notice one of my own students sneaking up on me.'

Dean looked embarrassed. 'I wasn't sneaking, sir,' he stammered. 'I wanted...'

'It's all right, Mr Thomas,' Sirius said with a chuckle. 'I was only joking.'

He set down the parchment he had been reading and leaned back, holding his hands in his lap and resting his elbows on the arms of his chair.

'How may I be of service?' he asked.

Dean held up the mirror.

'Well, you see, sir, it's about this mirror.' He gulped. 'I was wondering if you might recognise the person, if maybe you knew who he was. Aries and Draco said you knew everyone who was anyone.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow and smirked. 'I doubt I should go that far,' he said, 'but it is certainly true that I have known a great many people.' He stretched out his hand. 'May I see the mirror?'

Dean handed it over. Sirius glanced down at the image, and Dean thought he saw the Defence master's grey eyes widen just a fraction of an inch. Otherwise, his face remained impassive.

'Well, sir?' Dean prodded. 'Do you know him?'

'I did,' Sirius said after a long pause. 'He died many years ago, not long after you and my boys were born. He was in my year at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw. We were never especially close, but our families moved in the same social circles. He was actually my second cousin on my father's side, but a decent bloke for all that. His brothers, though...' Sirius stopped, his eyes darting back and forth between the mirror and Dean's face. His eyes narrowed, then he put the mirror down on the desk and motioned for Dean to sit. Dean complied, but slowly.

Sirius Summoned a teapot and cups from a side table and poured them both tea.

'One or two sugars?' he asked.

'One, please,' Dean replied quietly.

Sirius stirred the cup and handed it over, then took a sip out of his own. He leaned forward and looked at Dean directly. The third-year gulped hard. Sirius might be his friends' dad and an all-right professor, but he had always thought there was something unsettling about him, something brutal in his eyes, like a wild dog straining to break free of his leash.

'Tell me, Mr Thomas,' Sirius said in a low voice. 'Why are you carrying about a picture of Roland Lestrange?'

There was a gasp in the corridor, but both Sirius and Dean ignored it.

'Was that his name, sir?' Dean asked.

Sirius nodded. 'It was,' he replied curtly. 'And again I must ask you why you have his portrait.'

Dean began picking at his left thumbnail whilst looking down at his shoes.

'He's my dad,' he said quietly.

'I was under the impression that you were Muggleborn,' Sirius replied. His voice was firm, but not unkind.

'So was I, sir,' Dean whispered. 'But Draco helped me with some Paternity Charms, and he said this was a picture of my dad.'

'Then he's probably right,' said Sirius. 'Draco's always been talented with Paternity Charms.'

Dean took a deep breath. 'I never knew him. He left my mum before I was born.'

Sirius nodded and sat back in his chair. 'Roland disappeared several months before he died,' he explained. 'His father and elder brothers were all rather prominent Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort was adamant that the youngest Lestrange be added to his collection. Roland, however, wanted to stay out of the war. On the one hand, he disagreed with Voldemort's programme; on the other he felt that he couldn't go against his family. When the pressure got to be too much, he ran away.'

'Why didn't he take us with him?' Dean asked in a small voice.

Sirius looked at him sympathetically. 'Knowing Roland,' he said softly, 'I should think that he wanted to keep you both safe. His father and brothers would undoubtedly have killed your mother had they known that she and Roland had conceived a child together. The Lestranges were blood purists of the most fanatical kind. They actually made my father look almost moderate by comparison, though they got on famously with my mother. The thought that any Lestrange could have "defiled himself with Muggle filth" – as they would have put it – would have driven them mad with rage. As it was, they ended up tracking down and killing Roland just because he refused to join up with them.'

There was a long pause, during which Dean began picking the nail on his left index finger.

'Sir, do I have any family left alive on that side?' he asked. 'Anyone at all?'

Sirius sighed. 'Rodolphus and Rabastan – Roland's elder brothers – are locked up in Azkaban, along with Rodolphus's wife, my cousin Bellatrix. And that's all for the best, since they would sooner Cruciate you to death than accept you as family. Old man Lestrange was killed in a skirmish with Aurors a couple of days after Roland. His wife, er, accidentally overdosed on a Dreamless Sleep Potion about a fortnight later. Aside from that, I suppose there's my Granny Black – she's Roland's great-aunt – and assorted cousins. You've got several of them right here at Hogwarts.'

Dean's expression brightened. 'Really? Who?'

Sirius thought for a second. 'Well, there's Aries, of course, and Draco by adoption. There's Ernie Macmillan in Hufflepuff, and Cedric Diggory too. They're all third cousins. Anthony Selwyn in Slytherin is as well, and I think that Ted Nott is your second cousin, once removed, but don't take my word on that one. There were two witches my mum knew who looked a lot alike. One of them was my dad's cousin, and the other of them was my mum's best friend from school. I can never remember which one was married to old man Nott.'

Dean took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

'This is a lot for me to take in,' he said.

Sirius nodded gently. 'I can imagine,' he replied. 'If you like, you can spend the Christmas holidays with us in France. We'll see Granny Black, and she can tell you some stories about your dad's family.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Dean said. 'I think I'd like that. I'll ask my mum whether it's all right.'

'Good,' Sirius said with a smile, and Dean got up to leave. Sirius stopped him just before he left the classroom.

'By the way, Mr Thomas,' he said. 'Would you please send in the Marauderlings on your way out?'

Dean gave him a half smile and nodded. 'Of course, Professor.'

Sirius heard whispering in the corridor after Dean left. After a couple of minutes, Harry and Draco walked into the classroom. Both were quieter than usual, and Harry looked quite pensive. Sirius flicked his wand and put up a privacy ward before turning to the boys.

'You heard everything?' he asked.

Draco nodded, but Harry seemed lost in thought, almost as though he were entranced by some scene playing out on the outermost edges of his vision.

'I'd have never guessed that Dean was Uncle Rudy and Aunt Bella's nephew,' Draco said quietly.

'Neither would they,' Sirius spat. 'Thank Merlin Bella doesn't know. She'd kill him slowly, prolonging his agony beyond the limits of human endurance, and then prance away merrily to hunt down his mother.'

'She's in Azkaban, Dad,' Draco reminded him.

Sirius scowled. 'Somehow, I don't think she would let a little thing like that get in her way.' He paused and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Harry noticed Sirius's distress, and grasped his hand tightly. Sirius squeezed back, and gave his adopted son a grateful smile. No words passed between them. None were necessary.

'I suppose the question is straightforward enough,' Sirius said at last. 'Do we trust Dean Thomas?'

'Implicitly,' Draco said.

'Somewhat,' Harry said simultaneously, and the two brothers exchanged surprised glances. It was not often that the boys found themselves in significant disagreement.

'What do you mean, Aries?' Draco demanded, his tone indignant. 'Dean's one of our best friends.'

'He is,' Harry agreed. 'And he's a good bloke. There's no doubt about that.'

Sirius nodded in understanding. 'But you think it would be imprudent to include him in all of our secrets.'

'Exactly,' Harry said. 'His skills are insufficient to resist intrusion from Riddle – or Dumbledore, for that matter. We ought to ask him to get into the vault and retrieve the Cup, but not tell him anything more about what it is, or why we need to destroy it.'

Draco snorted. 'And just how the hell are we going to do that? One cannot simply go up to someone and ask them to retrieve a priceless heirloom from their family's ancestral vault without explanation.'

'A valid point,' Sirius concurred. 'He'll want to know why we need the Cup, and rightly so.'

'But we can't tell him what we know about the Horcruxes,' Harry said adamantly. 'Too many people know about them already.'

Sirius thought for a moment. 'I'm sure we can think of some suitable cover story that will satisfy his curiosity without spilling all our secrets,' he said. 'We can go to Gringotts over the holidays. The Cup will be destroyed by the New Year.'

'That's all the Horcruxes but one,' Draco said quietly, giving Harry a worried look.

'Any luck on that front?' Sirius asked, and the dark-haired boy shrugged.

'Some,' he said. 'But it's not an easy process. I need more time.'

Sirius nodded. 'Take all you need.' He had a sudden burst of inspiration. 'Perhaps I ought to start spending some time with the Stone as well. Two heads are better than one, right?'

Harry shrugged. 'I suppose so.' He turned to give his brother a mischievous smirk. 'What about you, Draco? Do you want a turn too?'

The blond boy shook his head firmly. 'Absolutely not,' he said. 'Someone has to keep you two grounded in reality. We can't all go off seeking some mystic crystal revelations.'

Sirius laughed. 'I don't think you quite understand, Draco,' he said, tousling the boy's hair, 'but the sentiment is appreciated.'


	59. Part II: Chapter 30

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my readers. I'm feeling a second burst of wind as we draw near to the end of the second part, so I'm hoping for more frequent updates. I am especially grateful for all those who have left so many thoughtful and helpful reviews. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed!**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 30

Sirius found himself in an all-too-familiar drawing room: the locale of so many miserable childhood memories. The Christmas tree, as always, was enormous, and exquisitely decorated. No children were allowed within three feet of it, lest they ruin it. Walburga's trees had won prizes; it was not for nothing that she had been the chair of the Christmas Decorations Committee at St Mungo's ten years running.

The rest of the room was adorned just as lavishly and tastefully in honour of the holiday, and the long buffet table was weighed down with mountains of the most toothsome delicacies: trays of rare cheeses, tiny crepes stuffed with smoked salmon and caviar, escargots, pickled herring, devils on horseback, bite-sized éclairs that would practically melt in one's mouth and, to top it all off, Kreacher's famous Christmas cake. On a table in another corner of the room stood an immense crystal basin filled with the Black family's secret champagne punch.

The doors of the room swept open, and Sirius's heart nearly stopped as he beheld his mother, in her prime of life, glide through them, her posture erect and her death gaze set to maximum. Walburga Black was a handsome woman, though she had never been the sort of girl one might call pretty. Her regal bearing and haughty disposition inspired craven fear from all, her sons more than most. Even all these years later, after everything that had transpired between them, Sirius still found that there was a part of him that was terrified of his mother, and an even smaller part of him that desperately longed for her approval. He hated himself for it.

She surveyed the room with a cool majesty, pausing only to straighten a dish or Scourgify a dusty corner of a hard-to-reach bookshelf. Perfectionist though she was, she had few changes to make – Kreacher knew that he would repay any such oversights tenfold. Once satisfied, she cast a series of nasty defensive charms on the room and sealed the doors. No one and nothing would be permitted to disturb it before the party that evening.

Once again left all alone, Sirius walked over to the piano, sat down on the bench and began to play. He hadn't really taken to the piano in years – since before he had gone to Azkaban – and he was surprised to see how easily it all came back to him. He closed his eyes and savoured the feel of the music. He had long thought that his musical education was the only good thing his parents had ever provided him – even his gold he had received in spite of his mother, not because of her. Everything else they had given him had ended up a curse: his surname, his family connexions, the whole panoply of hang-ups and prejudices that even seven years in Gryffindor had been unable to purge from him completely. On bad days, Sirius would say that his very birth counted amongst the myriad ways his parents had cursed him.

Music had been the only thing that could exorcise the demons that haunted him at home, and one of the very few things for which his parents had ever deigned to praise him. Sirius had thrown himself into it whole-heartedly as a child, and had played quite well by the time he went to Hogwarts. At school, he had met James, and the two of them had found other cures for Sirius's melancholy. All the same, Sirius had returned to the piano with great eagerness during the holidays, when it was the only thing that could keep him sane, and even after he ran away from home, when it alone could anaesthetise the aching loneliness he sometimes felt – all the more so after James began to spend more time with Lily, and, by necessity, less time with his best friend. After Azkaban, Sirius had Harry, and then Draco, and somehow had not felt any particular need to play. Now, however, he found it as soothing as it had ever been.

Suddenly, an extra layer of harmonies filled the room: the distinctive sound of four-handed Beethoven. Sirius kept his eyes closed, not wanting to open then and destroy the illusion. Only one person had ever played with him four-handed, and it was too much to hope that he might be here now. They played through the end of the piece, and Sirius felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

'Well done, old man,' said a familiar tenor voice. 'It's good to see that you've still got it in you.'

Sirius opened his eyes and turned to his right. There, tall and slim in immaculate dress robes, his posture perfect and his grey eyes laughing, sat Alphard Black.

Sirius smiled involuntarily. 'It's good to see you, Uncle Alphard,' he said.

'Likewise,' Alphard replied. 'Though I've been keeping an eye on you, of course.'

'I wondered who it would be,' Sirius said. 'Harry said that he had met Uncle Marius. I had thought it might be James.'

The corners of his uncle's mouth twitched slightly. 'Disappointed?'

'Not at all,' Sirius said hastily. 'Just a bit surprised.'

'You'll see James in time,' Alphard assured him. 'When you're ready to pass through the Waters of Fire.'

That piqued Sirius's curiosity. 'The Waters of Fire?'

'The final stage of purification,' Alphard explained, 'where one is cleansed from imperfection and attains perfect contemplation. If you wish to free your son from the half-blood's Horcrux, it is the only way. But you've both quite a way to travel before you're ready to face that ultimate trial.'

Sirius's eyes fell. 'Harry's not really my son, Uncle Alphard,' he said quietly. 'He's James's son. I'm only his godfather.'

Alphard raised an eyebrow. 'Did you know, my lad, that in the Byzantine Empire, one's godfather was considered in certain senses to be more truly one's father than one's biological father?'

Sirius chuckled. 'I didn't actually.'

'And more particularly in your case, where you are the only father the poor boy has ever known, how do you think it makes him feel when you refuse to accept him as your own?'

'I do!' Sirius objected. 'I love him more than anything! I'd die for him.'

Alphard rolled his eyes. 'Yes, yes, of course. Spare me the melodramatic Gryffindor protestations of self-sacrificial loyalty. Dying for someone is one thing, but why do you refrain from making him totally your own?'

'I don't know what you're on about,' Sirius said shortly. He rose from the piano bench and began to pace around the drawing room.

'Have I taught you nothing, my boy?' Alphard said in exasperation. 'Never prank a prankster, and never lie to a Slytherin. Mendacity may be a defence mechanism for you; for us it's a way of life. You know as well as I that in your heart of hearts, the boy is and has always been Harry James Potter, your godson and the only son of your late best friend.'

'If you think that makes me love him any less, then you don't know me very well,' Sirius said coldly, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

'Please, Sirius, you can't possibly intimidate me,' Alphard drawled. 'You don't pull it off nearly as well as Burga did, and she was my elder sister long before she was your mother.'

Sirius's face relaxed somewhat, and he shrugged. 'It works with everyone else.'

'Not with me, old man,' Alphard replied, his hands launching into a merry little ditty on the piano. 'I've known you since the day you were born, and I assure you, you may have your mother's temper, but your inner nature is far more like your father's. Orion always was that brooding, depressive sort. I too. The pleasant, jocular demeanour is only a mask. Well, we're all of a type, aren't we?' His fingers trilled along the keyboard and he stopped. 'But back to the subject at hand. Of course you love Harry. He's your godson, your best friend's son and doppelganger, not to mention a marvellous young man in his own right. I've always felt much the same way about you.'

Sirius grinned sheepishly.

'But what the boy wants and needs – though, like most thirteen-year-old boys, he is as yet unable to articulate it – is for you to love him the way James loved him,' Alphard went on.

Sirius's grin vanished. 'How the hell am I supposed to do that?' he snapped. 'I can't take James's place. That would be like stealing Harry from him!'

Alphard shook his head and sighed. 'There's Burga's temper again. She got it from Mother's side, I suppose. Crabbes, you know. Thank God only you and Bella seem to have inherited it in the next generation. Why my godchildren in particular?'

That, at least, shut Sirius up quickly. He decided to change the subject.

'Why did you kill yourself?' he asked abruptly.

Alphard glared at him.

'That was impertinent, inappropriate and in no way germane to our discussion,' he snapped. Then, in an instant, his scowl shifted into a smile. 'Just the sort of thing I'd expect to hear from my favourite nephew.' He began to play Schubert's _Ave Maria_. 'Burga always enjoyed this piece,' he said. 'For all her faults, she did have a lovely singing voice. Wasn't this the year you accompanied her at the Christmas party?'

'You haven't answered my question,' Sirius pointed out.

'I should think not,' Alphard agreed jovially. 'As it was very rude and utterly beside the point.'

'I was serious.'

'Naturally,' Alphard replied.

Sirius walked over to his uncle and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Tell me, Uncle Alphard,' he said. 'Please.'

Alphard stopped playing and took a deep breath. He looked over his shoulder at his nephew and godson.

'For the same reason you ran after Peter Pettigrew that night, instead of insisting on accompanying Hagrid and explaining everything to Dumbledore,' he said.

Sirius looked confused. 'Revenge?'

'If you think it was simple vengeance, you do not know yourself as well as you think,' Alphard said wryly. He paused, then continued in a quiet voice. 'I suddenly found myself with nothing else in the world to live for, and momentarily abandoned all reason and good sense. It was a foolish decision, Sirius, and I regret it profoundly.'

Sirius stood there, chewing his lower lip. 'I wish you hadn't,' he said quietly. 'There were times I really needed you. And Dad...and Reg...'

Alphard blinked several times and sighed. 'As I said, my boy, I profoundly regret my decision. But that is all I've to say on the matter. We've more important issues to address.'

'I'm glad to have you now, Uncle Alphard,' Sirius said. 'Thanks.'

Alphard smiled. 'What else are funny old bachelor uncles for?'

* * *

It was a rainy afternoon in London, and Cassiopeia Virgo Black sat all alone in her boudoir, perusing her well-worn and thoroughly-annotated copy of _Moste Potente Potions_. The house at number seventeen, Windermere Court was completely empty except for the elderly witch and the elf, and had mostly been so ever since September. Cassiopeia had at first looked forward to the solitude with eager anticipation. She had always savoured the quiet tranquillity of an empty house, and loathed the turbulence of company. She had lived on her own for many years, and thrived. Living alone meant that one was free to pursue one's studies in peace, and Cassiopeia had become a mistress of the most obscure branches of magical knowledge. She had never lacked for companionship either, on those rare occasions when she had need of it. She had taken tea with her siblings and cousins on a regular basis, and tutored her nieces and nephews from time to time. All in all, it had been a fulfilling way to live, and she had enjoyed large blocks of time to herself in which to indulge her various pursuits.

Then young Aries Black had come into her life. Pollux had asked her to move in with the Squibs and oversee the boy's education, and she had agreed, however reluctantly, all the time telling herself that one day the boys would go to school, and she would finally have peace once again. That prophecy had been fulfilled in due course, and now she had the entire house to herself.

But something strange and unexpected had happened along the way. Cassiopeia had found that she actually rather enjoyed having the little brats running about. She would never tell them as much, but she would often find herself chuckling discreetly at their pranks, and she missed them terribly whilst they were away at school. Even so, she had still had Clytemnestra and Sirius to keep her company, so she did not feel the loneliness as acutely as she might have done.

Now, however, Clytemnestra had moved back to Malfoy Manor, Sirius was at Hogwarts and Narcissa spent most of her time at Grimmauld Place. Cassiopeia had solitude in abundance, and was dismayed to learn that she had lost her taste for it. Even worse, when the need for company arose, she found that she had fewer outlets for it than she once had. Dear Dorea of course had died long before. Pollux too, and even Marius. She spent some time at Malfoy Manor, and, much to her surprise, at Grimmauld Place. The fact that she now found even Druella's company to be preferable to her loneliness was perhaps the most disturbing thing about this whole unpleasantness. But Cassiopeia had no other choices. She had squandered her youthful chances at romance and love in exchange for the knowledge and power she had acquired through hard study, and now in her old age she found that she wished she could have another chance to live her life over. Alas, such chances were not freely dispensed.

Mopsy appeared suddenly in the boudoir, bowing deeply.

'Miss Cassie,' she stammered. 'Mistress Black is asking for you. She says there's been an emergency with Mr Malfoy and she needs you at the Manor right away.'

Cassiopeia grumbled out of habit as she pulled on her cloak and grabbed her wand, but inside her heart was singing. At least someone wanted her.

She Flooed to Malfoy Manor and found Clytemnestra looking highly distraught.

'I can't believe I did it, Cassie,' she rambled. 'It was just getting to be too much. I haven't slept properly ever since he fell ill.'

'What's happened, Clytemnestra?' Cassiopeia demanded in her no-nonsense tones.

'He was getting better,' the Squib continued, verging on hysterics. 'I could have been more patient, but I was tired. I gave him the phial, but I didn't think it would be so horrible.'

A lesser witch might have shown her sudden concern on her face, but Cassiopeia only narrowed her eyes slightly.

'What have you done?' she asked evenly.

Just then, a tall, handsome youth with closely-cropped blond hair and bright blue eyes sauntered into the room. He wasn't even properly dressed, wearing only trousers and a partially-unbuttoned shirt that revealed his powerful chest. A mischievous grin danced on his face. Cassiopeia had the strange feeling that she had met the young man somewhere before. Then he spoke.

'Good evening, Cassie,' he said in a low rumble, and the old witch's heart stopped. She looked at Clytemnestra questioningly.

'Is it...?' she whispered.

The Squib nodded. 'It's him,' she replied. 'Aries gave us two bottles of Elixir for our mission to retrieve the Horcrux. We only used one, and I kept the other in my medicine cabinet. I thought it might help him get over the dragon pox.'

'It certainly did,' Abraxas pointed out, a twinkle in his newly-young eyes. 'I feel as healthy as a horse.'

Cassiopeia stared at him for a moment, speechless. His shoulders were so broad, and his grin so enticing...

'In fact,' Abraxas continued, 'I thought I might like to go into town, perhaps go dancing.'

'Great Merlin,' Clytemnestra groaned. 'Abraxas Hippocrates Malfoy, you are sixty-eight years old.'

'He doesn't look sixty-eight,' Cassiopeia pointed out.

'That's just the Elixir,' Clytemnestra protested. 'Who knew that a second dose would have that sort of effect on someone who wasn't dying? It might wear off.'

Abraxas winked at Cassiopeia. Her heart melted.

'All the more reason to take advantage of it whilst it lasts,' he said.

Cassiopeia gulped.

'Fine,' she said. 'I'll come with you. But wait just one moment.'

She Flooed home and ran up the stairs to her boudoir. She took the key that hung from a ribbon around her neck and unlocked her special cabinet. There, sitting on the top shelf, was the phial of Elixir Sirius had given her for their own mission. She reached up to take it, then hesitated. This would be foolish and irresponsible. If anyone found out that they had the Stone...

_To hell with it_, she thought, and for the first time in her life, did something utterly reckless, and even a bit Gryffindorish. She snatched down the phial and drained it in a single gulp.

* * *

Back at Malfoy Manor, Abraxas was practically bouncing off the walls with nervous energy.

'Sweet Merlin, Nestra,' he exclaimed. 'I feel wonderful! We should Floo Sirius and get some for you too.'

'I don't want any, thank you,' his sister replied primly. 'I am perfectly content with my age. It's taken me all these years to attain matronly status, and I have no desire to give it all up for a bunch of childish hormones.'

Abraxas shrugged. 'It's your loss.'

The fireplace roared to life, and out stepped a young witch wearing a fairly-fashionable dress that Clytemnestra had seen Narcissa wearing once or twice. She wasn't particularly beautiful – she had very strong features that were better suited to a man's face than a woman's – but she had taken care with her appearance, and the overall effect was, if not lovely, at least quite striking. Clytemnestra was reminded somewhat of a young Walburga Black.

'All right, Abraxas,' the young lady said tartly. 'I'm ready now.'

The blond wizard grinned, but Clytemnestra's jaw dropped in shock.

'Cassie?' she said stupidly. 'B-but, your glasses!'

Cassiopeia Black had worn thick spectacles since the age of seven, but this witch had nothing to obscure her grey eyes. Indeed, without the glasses, they were her best feature.

The young witch smirked. 'The Elixir is very potent,' she replied. 'If I'd known the effect a second dose would have, I'd have done this ages ago.' She offered her arm to Abraxas. 'Shall we go?'

The wizard smiled and took it.

'I can't believe you two,' Clytemnestra said with a scowl. 'If this gets out, someone will figure out that Aries has the Stone.'

A look of guilt momentarily flickered across the faces of witch and wizard. Clytemnestra sighed in relief. At least they weren't completely out of their minds. She might fix this yet. She needed to talk to Sirius...

Abraxas brightened suddenly, and Clytemnestra's heart fell. She knew that look.

'We'll go into the Muggle world,' he said. 'Sirius has been teaching me how to drive his car. I'm certain we can manage just fine.'

Clytemnestra had a sudden vision of Abraxas barrelling down the middle of the street, running down pedestrians as Cassiopeia blasted Muggle drivers out of the way with her wand. She was beginning to feel faint. She played her last card.

'Do you two really want to spend the evening amidst filthy Muggles?' she asked.

Cassiopeia gave Abraxas a mischievous look and smiled.

'I'm feeling rather...adventurous tonight,' she said.

They Flooed over to Windermere Court, whilst Clytemnestra collapsed in a comfy armchair and called for a Headache Relief Potion. She considered telling Sirius immediately, and then thought better of it. It wasn't as though he could do anything to remedy the situation – there was no antidote to the Elixir of Life – and it was the last week of term. He had other things to be getting on with. They could deal with this over the holidays. There would be plenty of time then.


	60. Part II: Chapter 31

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter, along with all associated characters, settings, spells and potion recipes, belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I'm back! Terribly sorry for the delay. I've had a lot of unexpected things come up, leaving me with very little time for fanfiction. However, I've rearranged my schedule, and I shall be posting every Monday for the near future. Thanks to all my readers, and especially to those who have left reviews!**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 31

Severus Snape was a half-blood, to be sure, and in the most unfortunate sense of that term. Having a Muggle father and a witch mother, he knew both the Muggle world and the magical world from the inside, and had decided before he could read that he belonged wholly to the magical world. He loathed Muggles, for though he recognised on some level that they were not all vicious cretins as his father had been, yet still he blamed them for their ignorance and their bigotry. The wizarding world might have their fair share of arrogance and idiocy, but at least they had something to be proud of.

Given his background, Severus had always known that blood status didn't really matter, not where it counted. Magical power had very little to do with the purity of one's blood, and inbreeding had hardly served to augment the pureblood genetic lines, which suffered from numerous afflictions as a result of their injudicious mating practices: madness, infertility and irrationality not the least amongst them. That said, Severus had always appreciated the immense value of a proper wizarding upbringing. Magic was about more than spells and wand-waving, memorisation and native intelligence. It was a living thing, and entailed a unique way of looking at the world. Having wizarding parents was essential to cultivating that outlook, which was why, with one very special exception, Severus had always held Muggleborns (not _that_ word, not ever again) in disdain.

Towards his better-born classmates, on the other hand, Severus had harboured nothing but reluctant admiration and envy. The purebloods in his House moved about the wizarding world with ease and perfect self-assurance, never betraying even the hint of any awareness that somewhere out there might be some other world that mattered as much as their own. Amongst these pureblood wizards, despite his mother's best efforts, Severus had found himself from the beginning to be something of an outsider.

That, more than anything else, had sparked his hatred of Potter and Black. The two glory-seeking Gryffindors might have traded hexes and insults with the likes of Lestrange and Rosier every chance they got, but at least they'd _recognised_ each other. Their families had attended the same parties and holidayed in the same locations; their fathers sat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and their mothers took turns chairing charity drives for St Mungo's. When push came to shove, they grudgingly recognised each other as 'our sort'. They were, after all, little more than a ridiculously extended web of cousins. If the war had not intervened, they would have gone on to take up high-level Ministry positions and distinguished seats on the Wizengamot. They would have traded insults in the vestibule after Easter services at St Wulfstan-within-the-Walls and competed viciously with each other in making outlandish donations to the Annual Christmas Clothing Drive for Needy Witches and Wizards, but they would still have attended each other's weddings and their wives would have gone to tea at one another's houses. They might even have played a somewhat-friendly game of Quidditch every once in a while, if only to show off their latest broomsticks. And then their children would have gone to Hogwarts, been Sorted into different Houses, and the cycle would have begun all over again.

Potter and Black had possessed it all, and to make matters worse, they had taken it all for granted – unlike Rosier and Lestrange, who had at least maintained a healthy concern for the fragility of their position. But Potter and Black had strutted about the school as though the entire world lay at their feet – which it did, of course – and then had the unmitigated gall to think that somehow they owed their position to nothing more than their own natural talents, which was patently ridiculous, considerable as those talents might be. (As loath as Severus was to admit it, even he had to recognise that both Potter and Black were wizards of unmerited skill and much-abused cleverness.)

Lily and Severus, however, had always seen how much the Gryffindor heroes, like all purebloods, depended on a biased system that favoured wealth and family connexions over knowledge and ability. Even Albus Dumbledore, they had learnt, owed a great deal of his success to a wealthy pureblood great-uncle who had discerned the young wizard's talent and made several discreet enquiries on his nephew's behalf. There were reasons beyond mere innate skill that explained why Aberforth ran a pub and practised illegal charms on goats whilst his brother was running wizarding Britain and beyond.

During their first couple of years at school, Lily and Severus had made naive, childish plans for subverting the existing system in favour of a meritocracy. Severus's original thought had been that his Gryffindor rivals would be unable to cope in such a situation, but the two terrors' third-year Transfiguration marks had sadly convinced him that Black and Potter would probably rise to the top in any system, except perhaps one that prized modest diligence and steady reliability above talent, wealth or cleverness, but neither Severus nor Lily really wished to create a world of Hufflepuffs.

The irony, of course, had been that both Lily and Severus ended up making their own ways into the system they had so hated and resented. Lily had married Potter, of all people, apparently coming around to accept the general delusion that he really was a decent fellow once one got past his mischievous exterior. Severus had entertained vain hopes that the late Dorea Black-Potter, who detested the idea of her darling son marrying a Muggleborn witch, would veto Potter's decision, but alas, such was not to be the case. Lily had won the old crone over eventually, and Severus had been forced to endure Bellatrix's tantrum upon learning that Dorea had gifted a 'filthy Mudblood' with a string of pearls that had belonged to Ursula Flint-Black. The wedding photograph in the _Prophet_, showing Lily Evans-Potter wearing a goblin-crafted tiara that had been fashioned for Proserpine Prewett on the occasion of her wedding to Pluto Black in 1549, had indirectly led to the slow and painful deaths of nearly two dozen unfortunate Muggles.

Severus, for his part, had found his calling in the role of the trusted retainer. Lucius Malfoy had shown him early on that there was a place for talented and ambitious half-bloods, so long as they knew the limits of their station and never, ever tried to rise above it. He might only have been a lapdog to Lucius, but through the Malfoys' good word most of pureblood society had eventually come to receive Severus, and to respect his utility, if nothing else. It was something, but it had never been enough for the ambitious Slytherin.

Severus supposed that was why he'd kept his old family home, despite its location in a seedy Muggle area, and that was why, on nights like tonight, he occasionally enjoyed slipping into a Muggle club and having a drink in the hot and sweaty, almost animal-like atmosphere. Here, he was a wizard amongst Muggles, a god amongst brutes. Here, at least, he knew he was superior. It was the same reason that he'd become a Death Eater, and that he had a made a reasonably-successful career out of terrorising his students. Severus Snape needed desperately to feel as though he was better than someone else, even if that someone else was an eleven-year old child. He knew it was a defect in his personality - Lily had noticed it even in school - but Severus lay the blame, as he did for so much else in his life, squarely at the feet of the diabolic duo.

With these thoughts in mind, Severus snorted into his glass as he observed a couple sitting at the table across the room from his. Muggle filth, the both of them, but they carried themselves with a haughtiness and general sense of entitlement that would have done Lucius Malfoy proud. The blond young man was dressed simply in trousers and a shirt, whilst the rather homely girl seemed to be wearing a more fashionable dress. They stood out clearly from the common throng, throwing Muggle money around as though they had no conception of its worth, and in the short time since their arrival they had clearly become the life of the party.

An infernal Muggle dance tune began to play, and the young man dragged the girl out onto the floor, to the cheers of all those around them. Every eye in the establishment seemed to be riveted on the couple, who twirled about the dance floor as though they owned it. Severus smirked, relishing the thought that, arrogant as these imbeciles no doubt were, he had something they hadn't, and never would. He had magic.

A waiter came by his table, and Severus stopped him.

'Tell me,' he demanded in clipped tones. 'Who are that couple dancing over there? Do they come here often?'

The young man shook his head. Severus noticed with disdain that his ears were pierced.

'This is the first time I've seen them,' the waiter said. 'Though so far as I can tell, they're richer than the Queen. They've both got weird names, too. The bloke calls himself Hippocrates Flint, and the bird's named Virgo Bulstrode.'

Severus sighed in sad disappointment. He couldn't be certain, of course, but how likely was it that posh Muggles would combine such unusual Christian names with well-known wizarding surnames? It figured that in addition to being rich and having winning personalities, they would also come from wizarding families with long-established lineages. Life was so unfair.

And very strange.

Severus had not become a Hogwarts professor at the tender age of twenty-one simply by the good graces of Albus Dumbledore. He had a mind like an steel trap, and what he lacked in raw magical power he more than made up for in sheer brilliance and ingenuity. The wizard and witch before him couldn't be older than twenty-five, and were quite possibly younger. Severus had taught at Hogwarts for over a decade; there was no way they could have passed through the school's hallowed portals without his knowing it, all the more so since Dumbledore had asked him to keep an especially close eye on students from questionable backgrounds, and both the Flints and the Bulstrodes fit easily into that category. However, the former Potions master did not recognise either of the pair, though he was forced to admit that they both seemed vaguely familiar.

Squibs, perhaps? That would explain their presence in a Muggle establishment. Severus quickly scanned both young people with his hawk-like eyes and noted a wand-shaped protrusion beneath the right sleeve of both of them. Fascinating. Most of the younger generation had acquired the abominable habit of carrying their wands in the rear pocket of their trousers, but these two were wearing arm-holsters.

Having exhausted the possibilities of external investigation from where he sat, Severus logically proceeded to the next phase: a light mental scan. He discreetly aimed his wand at the witch, judging that she would be less likely than the wizard to notice his intrusion. That proved to be a foolish mistake.

'_Legilimens_,' he whispered beneath his breath, and froze as the witch turned and looked directly into his eyes.

Pain. Unthinkable agony coursed along Severus' every vein before he could extract himself from the woman's mind, and there was one exquisite moment when he thought he might be able to apologise to Lily face to face. Then it ended, as suddenly as it had begun. Severus turned pale. The woman's face was mostly unfamiliar, but her eyes...Severus had received far too many death glares from those eyes, on various faces. They were cold, grey eyes – the same eyes Severus had come to associate with Sirius Black...and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Severus closed his eyes and thought for a second. He had been repelled by many superb Occlumentes, each with his or her own unique style. Dumbledore's rebuffs tended to leave one feeling rather merry, and with an awful craving for sweets. The Dark Lord drowned one in a bottomless abyss of gloom and despair, so that one wanted nothing more than to curl up into the foetal position and suck one's thumb. As for Virgo Bulstrode, her approach was virtually identical to that of Bellatrix. In fact, it was almost as if Bellatrix had taught her, or even ... Snape had a sudden curious thought.

He opened his eyes and examined the pair again. They were moving away rapidly; evidently the witch had informed her companion of Severus's presence. As they pushed through the crowd, Severus was able briefly to get a good look at the young man's face, and was reminded strongly of Lucius.

Hippocrates. Old man Malfoy's middle name – everyone knew that, he used it all the time. And Augustus Flint was Lucius's first cousin. As for Virgo, Severus had only ever heard of one witch cursed with that name – what sane wizard would lay such a burden on their daughter, after all? – and she had authored several volumes on his bookshelf: Cassiopeia Virgo Black. Severus wasn't sure how the Bulstrodes tied in, but those families were all related somewhere.

The pair left the club completely, and Severus drained his glass before rising from his chair. Abraxas Malfoy and Cassiopeia Black, youthful again and dancing in a Muggle club. What Dark magic lay behind this sudden rejuvenation? Severus suspected Dumbledore would find this information most intriguing.

* * *

Whilst his grandfather and great-aunt danced the night away in a Muggle nightclub, Harry's body lay safely asleep in Gryffindor Tower. His mind, however, was not so fortunate. Weeks of working with the Stone had opened the boy's mind to such an extent that he now experienced visions every time he slept, even now that he had begun to leave the Stone in his father's quarters for safe keeping. Usually the visions were orderly and beneficial – Uncle Marius led him through them, and he often awoke with the sense of having acquired a more profound understanding of himself, his family and the world in general. He had come to appreciate, for example, that the Dursleys' horrid behaviour towards him had sprouted largely from fear. Irrational and cruel as they had been, on some level they were trying to protect themselves and their son from a perceived danger.

'That, of course, does not justify their behaviour in any way,' Marius had emphasised. 'They were awful to you, a defenceless child, and deserve to be strung up and hung from the Tower of London. But evil has no existence of its own. It is a cruel parasite, that thrives only by corrupting something good. The Dursleys' love for their own was good in itself, but by becoming twisted and selfish, it led them to do horrific things.' He had let out a deep sigh, as he often did during their sessions. 'That is what is so truly tragic about people who do wicked things, Aries. They are neither monsters nor animals. On the contrary, they are extremely human.'

Harry had thought about that a good deal during a vision of a day he and Pollux had spent reminiscing about Muggle hunting in Transylvania. Such occasions had occurred rather often in his childhood, and he had used to regret that Pollux had never been able to carry through on his promise to have Harry join him one day.

'Our family aren't really that different from the Dursleys, are they, Uncle Marius?' he'd observed afterwards.

Uncle Marius had smiled at him benignly, but his grey eyes had been very sad.

'I mean, the way they treated you,' Harry had continued. 'It wasn't exactly a cupboard, yeah? But being disowned is pretty bad in its own right. If you hadn't had your Uncle Phineas to help you...'

At that moment he had realised something, and looked up at his great-uncle with newfound understanding.

'That's why you did it, wasn't it?' he'd said. 'That's why you took me from the Dursleys. I reminded you of the way your family had treated you.'

'I assure you, my lad, I should have helped you no matter what,' Marius had told him. He nonetheless sighed and nodded slightly, as he always had when conceding a point. 'I admit, however, that the parallels did occur to me.'

Those sorts of dreams were never precisely pleasant, but they were useful, and Harry understood the important role they played in preparing him to use the Philosopher's Stone. The dream he was having this evening, however, seemed to serve no such obvious purpose.

Uncle Marius was conspicuously absent, and there was no order at all. Harry was running constantly, but his environs changed dramatically from moment to moment. Sometimes he was in the woods behind Chateau Noir, other times he was darting through the narrow corridors of Castle Negrul. The sky was grey and gloomy overhead, and it looked as though it was about to rain.

He found himself suddenly in Godric's Hollow, a village with which, though he had visited it but a few times in waking life, he had become intimately acquainted through his dreams. It was now morning, and bells were ringing. It was evidently a Sunday, as people were congregating at St Godric's Church. Harry found himself swept along with the parishioners. There weren't very many – the tiny church was about half-full, and Harry took a spot in the back. He'd been to church often enough to know what to do, of course, though his family could hardly be considered faithful churchgoers. Harry, at least, generally preferred to have a lie-in on Sundays, something Sirius agreed with wholeheartedly.

Harry had therefore been surprised to learn both from Sirius and from his visions that, whilst his mother had been the sort of person who cheerfully considered herself C _and_ E, rather than C _of_ E, his birth father had actually been a fairly regular churchgoer. It was thus not completely unexpected when Harry saw James Potter in his dream, kneeling in the pew in front of him.

'We have left undone those things which we ought to have done,' the dark-haired man murmured along with the rest of the congregation, focussing very intently on his intertwined fingers, ' and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.'

There was a sudden lightning flash, and Harry was no longer in the church, or even in Godric's Hollow. It was late at night in a somewhat-familiar graveyard, and a blond man, perhaps a few years younger than Sirius, was preparing a potion. The words, vaguely remembered from his very first Potions class, sent shivers up Harry's spine.

'Bone of the father, unknowingly given,' the man intoned, 'you will restore your son.'

Another flash, and Harry was back in the church.

'Today if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts: as in the provocation, and as in the day of temptation.'

The cemetery again. An old man was tied to a gravestone. Harry thought he recognised him from the Ministry Ball. That's right, it was old Bartemius Crouch, the bastard who had sent Sirius to prison without a trial. The younger man grinned at Crouch maliciously, and took out a dagger.

'Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken,' he whispered caressingly as he sliced the poor man's arm. 'You will resurrect your foe.'

Back in Godric's Hollow:

'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.'

In the cemetery, the Death Eater – what else could he have been? – cut off his hand and dropped it in the cauldron.

'Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will renew your master.'

There was yet another flash, and Harry was back in the church. This time, however, James Potter was beside him.

'Hold on, son,' he whispered. 'Everything will be all right. Have faith.'

'That it may please thee to forgive our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn their hearts,' the vicar intoned in a high, reedy voice.

'We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord,' came the congregation's reply.

James clasped Harry's hand tightly, and there was another flash of lightning, this time ripping through Harry with a pain worse than any the boy had ever felt before. The church was gone, along with the worshippers, the vicar...and James too. Harry was mentally back in the cemetery, and before him, terrible in his triumph and sickening in his smugness, stood Lord Voldemort, fully restored to life.


	61. Part II: Chapter 32

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: It's Monday, and I've a post! Thank you all for your kind reviews.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 32

Severus slipped out into the dark alley behind the club, looked around to make certain that the coast was clear, then turned to Apparate. Nothing happened. He narrowed his eyes and whipped out his wand. Someone, and Severus had few doubts as to that person's identity, had put up anti-Apparition wards. Severus held his wand out as he turned in a full circle, muttering detection charms beneath his breath. There was no sign of anyone in the immediate vicinity.

Automatically, Severus raised a hand to the Portkey that hung about his neck, pressing it firmly and pronouncing the password. Again, there was no result. His enemies were thorough.

On one end the alley ran into a solid brick wall, whilst on the other it opened out onto the street. Apart from the street, the only way out of the aller was back through the club. Severus thought it most prudent to return the way he had come, and reached for the doorknob, with no success. The door was locked from the inside.

'Damn,' Severus swore, and began to make his way carefully towards the open end of the alley. He relaxed as he neared his destination, and wondered why precisely his adversaries had even bothered to prevent him from Apparating in the first place.

Suddenly, three large, vicious panthers turned the corner into the alley, eyes gleaming and fangs bared. Severus casually waved his wand at the leader, expecting it to Vanish. Instead, it split into a dozen panthers, all of which continued to prowl towards their target. Severus backed away, unleashing a volley of curses at the onslaught, but two more cats appeared for each one he managed to kill. Soon the alley was packed with snarling felines, and Severus had his back pressed up against the brick wall.

'Drop your wand, Snape,' commanded a voice from high overhead.

Severus looked up, and saw the young Abraxas Malfoy seated upon a broomstick. He raised his wand and fired a curse, but Malfoy easily blocked it.

'Drop it, I said,' he repeated. 'Or my gentle companion will command her horde to unleash their full wrath on you.'

Severus hesitated. He had hoped never to reveal his secret talent – even Dumbledore didn't know that Severus was an illegal Animagus – but he had no intention of surrendering to the Blacks. Now that they knew the truth about who had informed the Dark Lord about the prophecy...it would be tantamount to a death sentence. And so he transformed, quickly and elegantly taking flight over the heads of the panthers below. He savoured the sound of Abraxas's oath behind him.

Severus had not become an Animagus until after Black had been released from Azkaban. Suspecting – rightly, as it turned out – that the wretched man would eventually turn his considerable resources in Severus's direction, the Potions master had thought it prudent to invest in various ways of making a quick getaway. For this reason, he had been pleased to discover that his Animagus form was a bat, as the flying mammal easily lent itself to that purpose.

Severus headed for a narrow crack between two buildings and squeaked in delight. Once he had slipped through the tiny opening, there was no way that his pursuers would be able to capture him. Just a few more feet...

Then it came. The horrible burn on his left wing that could only mean that the Dark Lord had returned to life. Severus had felt the Mark growing stronger for some time now, but he had not expected the Dark Lord to regain his full strength so quickly.

For the moment, however, he had more pressing difficulties on his mind. The pain was excruciating, and though Severus did his best to ignore it, it slowed him down considerably, and, even worse, distracted him from his pursuers. Moments after the pain had hit him, the large bat had been struck with a Stunner and was falling rapidly to the ground.

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, surprised to see Draco, Dean, Sirius and Remus all hovering over him.

'He's awake!' Sirius exclaimed. 'Thank God. Aries, are you all right?'

Harry nodded groggily. 'What's going on? What are you all doing here?'

'You were having a nightmare and wouldn't wake up,' Draco explained. 'Dean went to fetch Uncle Moony...er...Professor Lupin, and Professor Lupin brought Dad.'

'How do you feel, Aries?' Remus asked.

'Fine,' Harry replied. 'I just had a dream, is all.' He glanced up at his father. 'I'd actually like to talk about it, Dad,' he said, casting a nervous glance towards Bilius's bed, where the Weasley boy was grumbling behind his bed curtains. 'But I'd prefer to do it _entre nous_.'

Sirius nodded once. '_Certainement__._' He turned to Dean. 'Thank you for your help, Mr Thomas. I'll take Aries and Draco to my quarters for the rest of the night.'

Dean nodded and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Night, Aries,' he said. 'I hope you sleep all right.'

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Draco were sitting on the sofa in Sirius's quarters, curled up with mugs full of hot chocolate. Remus had a mug of his own in his favourite armchair by the fireplace, but Sirius carried a glass of brandy as he paced in front of the coffee table.

'Do you think it was a vision?' Remus asked Harry, who had just finished recounting his dream in minute detail.

Harry nodded. 'It felt very real, and my scar hurt like hell. I haven't felt its presence so strongly since before I began working with the Philosopher's Stone.'

Sirius continued to pace, his brow furrowed and his intense gaze fixed on the flagstones beneath his feet.

'It's odd,' Remus observed. 'Barty Crouch, Junior is supposed to be dead.'

Draco snorted. 'So is Tom Riddle.'

Sirius paused and took a sip of brandy, letting out a deep breath once he had swallowed.

'Old Tom doesn't have many Death Eaters left,' he observed. 'We wiped out the better part of them during our assault on Riddle House. That may be why he's taken this step so soon. He needs to rebuild his strength.'

'He's also aware of the connexion he and Aries have,' Remus pointed out. 'It's possible he may suspect that we're going after the Horcruxes.'

Harry nodded. 'In which case, he'd want to retake a corporeal form as soon as possible.'

'We'll take Dean to Gringotts as soon as school ends,' Sirius said. 'The Horcrux is safe there for the time being, unless Riddle manages to bust the Lestranges out of prison.'

'I doubt he has enough resources to manage that,' Remus observed.

'For that matter, he probably is thinking the same thing we are, that the Horcrux is safest in the vault,' Draco added. 'He'll check on the others first.'

'He might make more, as well,' Harry said gloomily, 'once he figures out what we've done.'

Remus looked at Sirius in alarm. 'That's right, Padfoot,' he said. 'How will we find out if he does?'

The dark-haired man sighed. 'We'll have to wait and see. I'm hoping there's some sort of limit on how many Horcruxes one man can make, but we really don't know. For now, I think I'll get Aunt Cassie and Abraxas to work on combing Riddle's memories for the identities of any other Death Eaters we might have missed.'

'I could do it,' Harry said dully. He was staring blankly at his chocolate, and had a rather squeamish expression on his face.

'Over my dead body,' Sirius replied automatically, suppressing a smile of satisfaction as his son's shoulders sagged in visible relief. 'We've gone to loads of trouble to get you free of that thing. I want it out of you as soon as possible.'

'You know, Dad,' Draco said cautiously, 'Aries' link with Riddle is the only advantage we've got right now. I don't like it any more than you do, but we could...'

'No,' Sirius said simply but firmly, and the discussion was over.

* * *

Severus woke up to find himself in a dark cellar, his arms chained to the ceiling and his legs shackled to a stone wall. His Mark was still burning, but there was nothing he could do about it.

'Hello, Snape,' Abraxas's voice said from the shadows. 'I'm glad you could make it to our little party.' He sniffed. 'I notice that your Dark Mark is quite visible. Curious. When did the Dark Lord return?'

'I shall tell you nothing,' Severus spat.

There was a cruel cackle, and a young woman stepped into view. Cassiopeia Black.

'I think you shall, filth,' she drawled. 'And you'll begin by letting us know just whose side you are on.'

'I admit, Miss Black, that you are a superior Occlumens,' Snape said through clenched teeth. 'And you are both formidable adversaries. But you will find my mental defences perfectly capable of withstanding whatever assaults you have in mind.'

'You speak boldly,' Cassiopeia replied wryly. 'Are you certain you weren't meant to have been in Gryffindor?'

Snape only sneered at her.

'Silly fool,' Abraxas snorted. 'You've no idea with whom you are dealing. We are hardly a couple of your half-witted pupils. We've been extracting information from far better wizards than you since long before you were born.'

Cassiopeia launched a mental attack, but Severus easily brushed it aside. Then came Abraxas. Then Cassiopeia. Then Abraxas again.

Their two styles were utterly different. Cassiopeia was elegant and refined, a model of artistry even in her cruelty. Abraxas, on the other hand, was a bull in a china shop, unconcerned with what damage he might inflict. Cassiopeia could weave through the most intricate traps like a serpent, whilst Abraxas's brute force could plough through any wall Severus might erect. They proved a formidable combination, but Severus's pride in his skill had not been an empty boast. He blocked one Legilimency attempt after another, though it grew more difficult as time passed.

Over an hour later, Abraxas finally managed to break through Severus's last defences. The former Potions master hastened to erect another wall, but found he had no strength left to do so. Desperate, he summoned a series of useless memories, leading the intruder on a wild goose chase through his mind. Fortunately, Snape had long prepared for just such an occasion, and had specially developed a sequence for this very purpose. Exhausted though he was, the process was almost automatic, and required very little energy.

Abraxas, for his part, seemed as strong as ever, and plunged ahead easily, following Severus's twists and turns without difficulty. Eventually, they finally came to the end of Severus's defences: an innocuous memory of a wet autumn day at Hogwarts. Severus summoned all his remaining energy to launch the sequence all over again, when he noticed someone he had not at all expected to be present. It was Lily.

'Hello, Sev,' she said, stepping up to him and laying a hand on his cheek. 'I've finally come for you.'

Severus's lips quivered. 'Lily? Is that really you?' He had an odd feeling that he was forgetting something, that someone was after him. 'I'd love to talk, but he's nearly here.'

'Who? James Potter?' Lily chuckled. 'You don't need to worry about him, Sev. I've broken it off with him, for good. You're the only one I ever really wanted.'

Severus looked around him in confusion, but all he could see was the Hogwarts grounds, shrouded in a rainy mist. And Lily standing before him, so alive, so vibrant. Everything he'd always wanted.

'Will you do something for me, Sev?' she asked, kissing his forehead gently.

Severus's breath hitched. 'Anything.'

Lily smiled, and kissed him full on the lips, and Severus was lost in her green eyes. He was so lost, in fact, that when she whispered '_Imperio_' in his ear, it sounded like a snippet from an ancient love song, and he willingly surrendered himself to its embrace.

Back in the cellar beneath Malfoy Manor, Cassiopeia smirked smugly at her handiwork, the half-blood Death Eater standing before her with glazed eyes and a blissfully-vacant expression.

'Textbook,' she commented to Abraxas. 'I don't know if I've ever cast a lovelier Imperius.'

'You're sure it took?' Abraxas asked.

Cassiopeia grinned cruelly. 'He was practically begging for it. Anything for his dearest love.'

Abraxas shifted uncomfortably in his boots. 'It seems a bit underhanded, don't you think? Playing with a man's deepest longings in that way?'

The witch rolled her grey eyes and sighed. 'You, my dear Abraxas, suffer from a mild case of scruples. Not nearly so serious as Melania's, mind you, or even Sirius's, but you've definitely got it.' She laughed. 'Fortunately, I do not share that failing, and now Severus Snape belongs to me.'

'You do realise that either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord will have an easy time identifying your Imperius, even if they can't manage to lift it?'

Cassiopeia gave her companion a small grin. 'When I'm done with ickle Sevvy-kins, I shan't require the Imperius any longer.' She withdrew a phial from her handbag. 'Amortentia is a good place to begin, I think, but of course we shall have to intensify it just a bit. We don't want it wearing off whilst he's on assignment. Cerinthian saffron will do the trick.'

Abraxas shuddered. 'Thank Merlin I'm on your side,' he muttered beneath his breath.

Cassiopeia only cackled gleefully.

* * *

After classes the next day, Sirius Flooed back to Windermere Court in order to discuss their new information with Cassiopeia. He was surprised to find the house completely empty, except for Mopsy, who had no idea where the witch was, but Sirius supposed his great-aunt would return soon enough. He decided to take the opportunity to pay a visit to his best friend's portrait upstairs.

James was nowhere to be found, but Sirius found Lily sitting on a love Parisian bridge that hung in Marius's old study. All alone in her wedding dress, she looked like a jilted bride.

'Where's your groom, Evans?' he asked cheekily. 'Abandoned you at the altar?'

Lily snorted. 'Hardly,' she replied. 'James is down at the bakery in the kitchen, picking us up a freshly-baked cake.'

'Sounds good. Wish I could join you.'

Lily looked pointedly at his waistline, which, as even Sirius was forced to admit – to his tailor, if to no one else – seemed to have responded over-eagerly to all the heavy Hogwarts food that term. 'I really don't think you need to.'

'Watch it,' Sirius protested good-naturedly. 'I'm still recuperating from Azkaban.'

'And how long do you intend to use that excuse, Padfoot?' James called out, stepping into the picture whilst balancing a large chocolate cake on one hand. 'You were straining credulity a bit even before you left at the end of the summer. Now...well, let's just say you look rather more like your dad than you did last time I saw you.'

'Prat,' Sirius retorted, but he was smiling. He enjoyed having his friends pick at him. It was almost enough for him to forget they were dead. Almost.

'There's nothing wrong with that, of course,' James went on. 'Your dad cut a very stately figure. Very distinguished and all. Are you thinking of taking up a seat in the Wizengamot?'

'Merlin help us all,' Lily muttered. She cut herself a slice of cake and placed it on one of the plates James had nicked from the dinner party in the drawing room. 'So what sadistic bastard forgot to lock the gate and thus allowed you to escape from the kennel, Black?'

Sirius only rolled his eyes, which caused James to ignore the cake and focus intently on his best friend.

'What's wrong, Padfoot?' he asked. 'I don't think I've ever seen you take one of Lily's taunts without talking back.'

'It's Harry,' Sirius replied with a sigh. 'He had a nightmare. Turns out Voldemort's come back to life. I'm here to talk with Aunt Cassie about what we do next.'

James nodded, and Lily's eyes went wide.

'How's Harry?' she asked.

'He's doing all right, I think,' Sirius replied. He smiled slightly and gestured towards James. 'He says Prongs here was with him during the vision, gave him moral support.'

James appeared discomfited by that revelation.

'That's odd,' he murmured.

'What? That you'd help your son when he needed you?' Lily demanded.

'No,' James whispered. 'Just the thought that there's another me out there somewhere, who's helping him even when I can't.'

Lily reached out and held her husband's hand, and they sat quietly on the bridge, looking into each other's eyes. Sirius was watching them in quiet discomfort when there was a sudden pop behind him. He twirled around to see Mopsy standing there with her nose touching the floor.

'Mopsy is very sorry to be disturbing Master Sirius,' the elf said, 'but Miss Cassie's come home. She's taking tea with Mr Malfoy in the drawing room.'

'Thank you, Mopsy,' Sirius said. 'I'll be down in a moment.' He turned and bade farewell to his friends. 'I'll let you know when I find out anything more,' he said.

James nodded. 'Go take care of our kid, Padfoot. He's your number one priority.'

Sirius smiled and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, James called after him. Sirius looked questioningly over his shoulder.

'Padfoot,' James said quietly, his hazel eyes moist. 'Thanks.'

Sirius found that his voice had abandoned him, so he nodded curtly and went downstairs, stopping to wash his face before meeting his great-aunt and ostensible father-in-law in the drawing room. He straightened his robes in the mirror and took a deep breath before heading downstairs. As much as he hated to admit it, Prongs was right. He did look very like his father, lacking only – thank Merlin – that striking lock of grey, and perhaps another stone or so. Oh well. No one had ever accused Orion Arcturus Black of failing to look the part of a respectable pureblood warlock. If Sirius was to be forced to grow up, he might as well put that inheritance to good use. He stood very straight and even managed an excellent imitation of his father's haughty scowl, which naturally set him laughing outrageously. It totally ruined the effect, but put him in a much better mood for breaking the latest news to Cassiopeia and Abraxas. He was still smiling as he left the room and headed downstairs.


	62. Part II: Chapter 33

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my kind readers and reviewers. I recently noticed that this story has had over a million hits, and is on over two thousand Favourites lists. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am to all of you for the positive response to my work, and especially to those of you who have stuck with this long, meandering story for so long!**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 33

Sirius swept into the drawing room of number seventeen, Windermere Court, his professor's robes billowing out behind him.

'Good afternoon, Aunt Cassie!' he announced. 'Hello, Abraxas!'

His tone was jovial at first, but his smile quickly turned into a snarl and his eyes narrowed into menacing slits as soon as he saw two strange young people waiting for him. Before either could react, Sirius had whipped out his wand and Disarmed them both, thus demonstrating once and for all that he was, in fact, fully qualified to teach his subject.

'Who are you?' he growled, and scrutinised the intruders. The young woman reminded Sirius eerily of his mother, with strong, almost masculine features, whilst the young man looked very like Draco, if rather more powerfully built.

The pair exchanged an anxious glance.

'Sirius,' the young man began in a familiar drawl, and Sirius groaned as he realised who exactly his 'visitors' were.

'I can't believe it,' he muttered, brushing his hair out of his eyes with an irritated jerk. 'I thought you two were the responsible ones.' He sighed and stuck their wands into his belt. 'I shall assume there is a perfectly-reasonable and rational explanation as to why you two decided to take the Elixir of Life, and that your sudden youth is an unfortunate and unexpected side-effect of your carefully-considered and unavoidable actions.'

Abraxas and Cassiopeia both winced.

'Sirius,' Cassiopeia began, but the Head of the House of Black shook his head, and she fell silent.

'As I said, I shall assume the best,' Sirius seethed, 'and if I prove to be in error, so be it.' He paused weightily. 'But you two had better pray that, if I am wrong, I never learn the truth, because if I _were_ to find that my sons' grandfather and great-aunt had been fooling around with the most powerful and potentially-dangerous potion ever created, and in so doing had created a situation that might possibly endanger everything we've worked for, not to mention Harry's very life, then I would cause the pair of you such grief, pain and despair as to remove all doubt in your minds that I am in fact the son of Walburga Black-Black.' His voice was deadly, and only a slight twinkle in his grey eyes as he referred to his late and unlamented mother gave any indication that he wasn't ready to Cruciate the both of them then and there.

'But, since for the moment I am persuaded that you must have had excellent reasons for everything you did,' Sirius continued in a lighter tone as he lowered himself into his favourite chair, 'we need to address this new bloody mess, as though the recent resurrection of Tom effing Riddle and the ongoing destruction of his Horcruxes were not enough flaming dragon shit to occupy our oh-so-limited time.' He gestured to the sofa. 'Please, have a seat.'

Abraxas and Cassiopeia meekly sat down across from him. Sirius flicked his wand and poured them each a cup of tea.

'Two sugars, Abraxas?' he asked courteously.

'Yes, please,' the blond man replied in a low voice.

Cassiopeia took her tea without sugar, and then took a sip, summoning the courage to ask Sirius a question.

'How did you know that the Dark Lord had returned?' she asked. 'We only found out early this morning, during our interrogation of Severus Snape.'

Abraxas chuckled. 'You did far better than he did. It took the half-blood much longer to recognise us.'

Sirius closed his eyes and mentally counted to twenty in Arabic. When he was finished, he still hadn't calmed down enough, so he continued to forty in ancient Greek. When he had reached one hundred and thirty-seven in Sanskrit, he spoke, his voice strained.

'Why in the thrice-damned name of Salazar's seven sisters would Snape, of all people, have the opportunity to see you in your current state?' '_Salazar's seven sisters'?_ he thought. _Great Merlin! I _am _my father_. _What bloody rotten luck._

Cassiopeia seemed to have taken notice of Sirius's choice of phrase as well, and turned rather pale.

'We were out and about on an essential errand,' she said haughtily, as though daring Sirius to contradict her. 'We had, of course, taken measures to disguise ourselves, but the half-blood filth somehow managed to suspect the truth.'

'No need for you to worry though,' Abraxas assured him. 'We took care of it.'

'We subdued Snape and brought him back here,' Cassiopeia continued. 'He proved...resilient, but eventually was cooperative enough. He is now firmly in our control.'

'We released him after lunch, and sent him back to Dumbledore,' Abraxas added. 'We believe the old fool will attempt to use him in order to infiltrate what remains of the Death Eaters. If all goes according to plan, we shall have a spy in both their ranks.'

Sirius pursed his lips inscrutably. 'And if Riddle finds out that you've subverted his newest minion?'

Abraxas shrugged. 'There's one less half-blood in the world for us to worry about.'

Sirius took a deep breath. 'I'll let that one pass, because I shouldn't object to killing the greasy bastard myself, but I would rather you tried to remember that the last of my school friends is a half-blood, as is my son and heir.'

The blond man winced. 'Right. Sorry.'

'And if Dumbledore finds out?'

'The same,' Cassiopeia replied. 'I've commanded the Muggle-spawn to terminate his own life if he is captured by any of our enemies, and have generously provided him with a cyanide capsule in a false tooth so as to aid him in this endeavour.'

Sirius frowned. 'Aunt Cassie, were you listening to anything I just said to Abraxas?'

'Indeed,' she replied wryly. 'However, your objections to the term "half-blood" do not in any sense apply to the term "Muggle-spawn", inasmuch as both Aries and Lupin were born to two magical parents.'

Her nephew rolled his eyes. 'I give up.' He took a long sip of tea. 'Well, the Snape problem is resolved, at least, I'll give you credit for that. The question remains, however: who do we say you are, and what the hell happened to Abraxas and Cassiopeia?'

Abraxas set his cup and saucer on the coffee table and helped himself to a cucumber sandwich.

'We've given this a good deal of thought, Sirius,' he said. 'I think that if anyone asks, it's best to tell them that we've gone to do some experiments at Castle Negrul.'

Sirius nodded. 'That's a good idea. It's not that uncommon for unscrupulous wizards to take a holiday in Transylvania in order to take advantage of the lax restrictions there. For that matter, Granddad lived there for years. It makes perfect sense.'

'As for our identities,' Cassiopeia inserted, 'I thought that perhaps I could be Ceres Black, the offspring of a clandestine union between Alphard and a mysterious Spanish countess.'

Sirius's lips twitched. 'Sounds like something out of a Fifi LaFolle novel. Besides, don't you think that might raise some eyebrows? Rumour has it that Uncle Alphard, you know...er...flew for the other Quidditch team?'

Abraxas snorted. 'That's no rumour, my boy. Everyone and their elf knew that Quarry Black was that way.'

'Quarry?' Sirius asked.

'Short for Aquarius,' Cassiopeia explained. 'Don't you remember those silly nicknames they had?'

'Of course, everyone knew your dad was one too,' Abraxas went on, 'but that didn't stop him from fathering you and Regulus.'

'That's enough,' Sirius said, turning bright red. 'I think you've made your point.'

Cassiopeia smirked. 'Stranger things have happened, Sirius, especially in our family. I don't think anyone will even think to question it.'

Sirius took a deep breath. 'All right, so that's you settled. What about Abraxas?'

'I was thinking that I ought to pose as Nestra's long-lost grandson, Achilles Black,' Abraxas replied. 'No one ever found out what happened to Castor, exactly, once he left the country, so it's perfectly plausible. It would also explain why I look so much like my sister.'

Sirius sat dumbfounded for a moment, then began to laugh uproariously.

'What's so damn funny?' Abraxas demanded.

'It's just,' Sirius chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye, 'I'd have never dreamt in a million years that Cassiopeia Black and Abraxas Malfoy would voluntarily claim to be an illegitimate cousin from the Continent and the foreign-born son of Squib-spawn.' He broke down laughing again.

'It's for a good cause,' Abraxas said indignantly.

'You were right about one thing,' Cassiopeia added. 'Our transformation has placed Aries in very real danger.'

'If anyone discovers that he has the Philosopher's Stone, they'll come after him,' Abraxas continued. 'I'd do anything to protect Aries.'

Sirius stopped laughing and looked Abraxas directly in the eyes. 'You would, wouldn't you? Both of you. Hmm.' He took their wands out of his belt and handed them back with a sigh. 'All right. You're forgiven, I suppose. But next time you feel like a bit of a pick-me-up, please ask first.'

Abraxas accepted his wand and nodded curtly. 'Absolutely.'

* * *

The last evening before the beginning of the Christmas holidays found the brothers Black and the sisters Greengrass savouring a delightful five-course meal that Daphne and Astoria had managed to prepare together. Draco and Harry had nicked a fine bottle of wine from Sirius's quarters from the occasion – both boys suspected their father of knowing full well what they had done – and although the children only had a splash of wine each in their goblets they nonetheless felt very grown up.

After the meal, the quartet slipped out under the Invisibility Cloak to the Astronomy tower. It was a clear night, and they could see everything from Rowena's Refuge up in the mountains behind the castle down to the lights and bustle of the village below. A biting wind beat about the ramparts of the tower, and only Harry's and Draco's Warming Charms kept them all from catching cold. Harry, however, was careful to leave himself and Daphne just cold enough that they could still snuggle in order to keep warm. Astoria watched her sister and Harry with a hint of jealousy in her eyes, but Draco didn't care for snuggling, and was keeping them both quite warm with his very efficient charm.

They sat up very late, contemplating the vast expanse of the stars above them, sipping hot chocolate and chatting about nothing in particular. By midnight, all of them were asleep except for Harry, who lay awake for another hour, lost in thoughts about the future.

They had the misfortune the next morning to be found by the Head Boy himself, Percy Weasley, who scolded them for fifteen minutes before deducting five points apiece from the young miscreants and packing them off to their respective dormitories. They walked together as far as they could go, but they had to split apart eventually. Harry and Daphne lingered a bit longer than Draco and Astoria did.

'Goodbye, Aries,' Daphne said shyly. 'I hope you have a good Christmas.'

'You too,' Harry replied, and then, so quickly that Daphne couldn't quite be sure it was happening, he leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed, and he turned bright red, and they stammered a few more goodbyes before their siblings dragged them off in different directions.

'What was that about, Aries?' Draco demanded once they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Harry shrugged. 'It just felt right. I'm not going to see her for the whole holiday. I'll miss her.'

His brother smirked. 'You've got it so bad,' he drawled, then continued in a singsong voice. 'Aries and Daphne flying on a broom...'

Harry thwacked the back of Draco's head. 'Shut up, you prat.' He turned to the portrait. 'Christmas cheer,' he said, and it swung open.

'The twins will have fun with this,' Draco teased on their way into the Common Room. 'Maybe, if we ask nicely, they'll provide you and Daphne with a more romantic setting next term.'

Harry, as quick as a flash, drew his wand, spun around and pointed it at his brother.

'_Butterbeerio!_' he snapped, and a stream of frothy butterbeer squirted out of the tip of his wand and into Draco's face. When it finished, Draco was drenched and sputtering incoherently.

'That was brilliant, Aries!' Fred exclaimed, coming over and putting his arm around Harry.

George, naturally, was right beside him. 'That's real butterbeer, yeah?'

Harry nodded. 'It's the third of the Forgivable Curses,' he explained.

'The use of which against a fellow Marauder is enough to inaugurate a month-long prank war,' Draco added with a glare at his brother.

Fred laughed. 'Am I right in thinking that the Alada Chocavra is the first?'

Harry nodded.

'What's the second?' George asked.

Draco sniffled. 'The Dulciatus Curse,' he mumbled. 'And you got butterbeer up my nose, Aries.' He might have looked angry, but secretly, Draco was delighted. It had been a while since Harry had joked around with him like this.

'Sorry,' Harry said unapologetically. 'See you, Weasleys. We've got to get a move on, I'm afraid. Dad wants us in his quarters to go home in just under an hour, and Draco and I still haven't packed.'

'Lucky you,' George mumbled, 'getting to go home by Portkey.'

The boys shrugged.

'Come home with us for the summer,' Harry said, 'and you can too.'

The twins exchanged a mischievous look.

'Or you could come home with us?' Fred said with a smirk.

'I'm sure Mum would be delighted to have you,' George added.

Fred nodded. 'Not to mention young Bilius.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'We'll spend the summer with Bilius when Gryffindors are known for meekness and Slytherins for forthrightness.'

'Your loss,' George said, and he sounded sincerely regretful.

'We could have had a brilliant time,' Fred agreed. 'Oh well. Have a good Christmas.'

Harry and Draco bade their friends farewell and made their way upstairs. fifty-five minutes later, they, Sirius and Dean Thomas were clutching a rubber chicken and travelling to the south of France.

* * *

When Severus came in from his night of revelry, Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his favourite overstuffed armchair with his feet in a tub of hot water. The old man clucked his tongue in disapproval. It was not that he was not aware of the multifarious delights that could be afforded by nocturnal jaunts in quasi-legal Muggle establishments. On the contrary, he himself had frequented such clubs in his long-ago youth, though he personally thought them to have been of a somewhat higher calibre than the contemporary sort. However, to stroll in at a quarter to one in the afternoon was unacceptable. Pleasures had their place, of course, but one must always keep them tightly under control, lest they distract one from the necessary task at hand. This was all the more so when, as Albus and Severus were, one was dedicated to the great and glorious task of defeating a Dark Lord. Albus sniffed. He could still detect the heady scent of copious quantities of alcohol about the younger man. He sighed. Surely Severus could have bothered to dispel the odour? All it took was a flick of the wand, after all. When Albus had been young, subordinates had always had the respect to pretend to be sober when they came in drunk after a night's debauchery. What was the world coming to?

'Good afternoon, Severus,' Albus said in an unnecessarily-loud voice, noticing the wince of pain on the face of his companion with righteous satisfaction. 'I trust you had a pleasant evening.'

Severus nodded, a half-smile on his lips. 'Quite, Albus. Lovely time.'

Albus's eyes stopped twinkling. He knew that look. How could Severus think of such tawdry matters at this crucial time?

'I'm glad,' he said with a forced smile. 'You've been very busy. I'm sure you needed the diversion after six months of continuous labour.' He pointedly said nothing about how he had not had the pleasant distraction of a holiday in eighty-four years. Severus would get the point later and feel suitably guilty. 'Alas, even the most delightful nights must turn into days. I'm afraid we have serious work to do.'

Severus's grin vanished. 'I know. My Dark Mark burned violently last night. I believe the Dark Lord has returned.'

Albus nodded. He had suspected as much from the readings on his Metro-Doom. And from the lovely announcement Tom had sent. On purple vellum, with golden ink. Tom had always possessed such excellent taste. It was a pity he had subverted it to the service of evil. Naturally, Albus had sent a small congratulatory gift. It did not do to forget one's manners, perhaps especially when one was dealing with immortal, psychotic megalomaniacs.

'And you did not feel such a momentous occasion warranted cutting your little party short?' Albus asked quietly.

'I was...detained,' Severus replied.

Albus raised an eyebrow. _Of that I have no doubt._

'I can only hope that your night of fun will not redound to the advantage of Lord Voldemort,' Albus replied. 'Severus, you know what I must ask of you.'

The dark-haired man nodded curtly. 'I shall leave for the Continent first thing tomorrow morning. I believe the Dark Lord to have need of skilled potion-brewers.'

'Excellent,' Albus said. 'See to it that you insinuate yourself as firmly into his ranks as you possibly can. If I am correct, Lord Voldemort is currently in need of all the help he can obtain.'

'What about you, Albus?' Severus asked. 'Do you intend to reconvene the Order?'

The old man nodded gravely. 'I am afraid we must. We must not permit Lord Voldemort to rise again, no matter the cost. I shall contact you when I have scheduled the first meeting.'

Severus nodded, and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Albus sat back in his chair, pensively contemplating a little songbird that was perched outside his window.

Far away, unbeknownst to them both, an enchanted quill was copying down everything that Severus heard, thought, felt or saw onto a clean sheet of parchment, engraved, naturally, with the crest of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.


	63. Part II: Chapter 34

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my kind readers and reviewers. Further up and further in! ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 34

It was a crisp December morning at the Black family chateau, and Dean was having a marvellous time as he, Aries and Draco chased each other through the air on broomsticks, tossing a Quaffle back and forth. He had been pleasantly surprised by the warm, inviting atmosphere of the chateau, and more particularly by the affectionate embrace with which Aries' grandmother had greeted him. Professor Black had told him that she was his father's great-aunt, but it still felt odd for Dean to have this stranger fussing over him and urging him to call her 'Granny Black'. He had also noticed that the Defence master had introduced him as 'Dean Lestrange', and wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. What would his mum and stepdad think?

Roquefort, Granny Black's house elf, popped into the garden and screeched something in rapid-fire French. Dean had begun to regret never studying it, since everyone in the family appeared to be fluent, and would switch into French at the slightest provocation. Aries said something imperious back to the elf, which bowed low and vanished.

'Dad said it's time for us to go in and wash for dinner,' Draco told him. The brothers were already heading back to the ground. Dean followed after them and they all went inside the large house.

Fifteen minutes later the three of them entered the chateau's grand dining hall. Professor Black was already there, standing by the crackling fireplace and deep in conversation with Professor Lupin and a witch and wizard who appeared to be in their mid-twenties. Professor Black nodded at something the witch had said, then suddenly noticed the boys' arrival.

'Aries, Draco, Dean,' he called out. 'Come over here. There are two people I'd like for you to meet.'

The boys complied promptly. Dean noticed that the young witch looked very stern and rather unpleasant, whilst the blond wizard had an overabundance of good humour.

'Ceres, Achilles,' Professor Black said. 'These are my sons, Aries Black and Draco Malfoy-Black, and their friend, Dean Lestrange.' He turned to the boys. 'These are my cousins Ceres _Virgo _Black and Achilles _Hippocrates_ Black.' He put a funny emphasis on the middle names for some reason, and gave the boys a pointed look. Draco raised his eyebrows, whilst Aries frowned.

Achilles extended a hand tentatively. 'It's a pleasure to meet you,' he said in an almost questioning tone.

Aries hesitated, then grasped his cousin's hand firmly. 'Likewise,' he said, suddenly wearing a charming smile. 'I hope that you'll both be staying with us for Christmas.'

'We'd never dream of doing otherwise,' Ceres replied, offering her own hand, which Aries kissed.

Once everyone had greeted each other, Black took Dean aside.

'After dinner today, Achilles and Ceres will take you to Gringotts in order to sort out the question of your inheritance,' he said. 'You can trust them. They know what they're doing.'

Dean nodded. He hadn't much choice in the matter, after all. Black gave him a wink, and then Granny Black entered the room. She shortened the long table with a flick of her wand and took her place at one end of it. Professor Black sat at the other end, of course, whilst Professor Lupin, Ceres and Achilles sat together on one side, with Aries, Draco and Dean on the other.

Granny Black said grace, and then the meal began. It was sumptuous, as indeed all the meals had been since Dean's arrival at the chateau. Aries and Draco whispered the unpronounceable name of each dish to him as it came, along with tips on how to eat unfamiliar foods, but Dean hardly needed to know the names in order to savour the rich combinations of flavour, texture and intricate design. Being something of an artist himself, Dean was well able to appreciate the effort and attention that had gone into the meal.

Just after Roquefort had served the chicken Kiev, a magnificent eagle owl swooped into the room and alighted on the back of Professor Black's chair. The Defence master stroked the owl's back slightly as he removed the letter from his leg, and the bird seemed gratified. Black opened the envelope with a flick of his wand, and then scanned the letter quickly.

'It's from Narcissa, Granny,' he announced.

'That's our mum,' Draco whispered into Dean's ear.

Black continued. 'She says that she has some errands to take of beforehand, but her Portkey is scheduled to arrive at precisely two o'clock this afternoon.'

'How delightful, Sirius,' Granny Black replied. 'Will Irma and Druella be joining her?'

Black shook his head. 'I'm afraid not. It seems Grandmamma and Aunt Druella are visiting Araminta Melliflua. They plan to stay with her through Twelfth Night.'

'Ah,' Granny Black said, her lips twitching slightly. 'What a terrible pity.'

A sudden burst of sniggering around the table informed Dean that he had just missed yet another Black in-joke. There seemed to be a great many of them. Between the constant obscure references to things that everyone was already assumed to understand and the switching back and forth between different languages, Dean counted himself lucky if he understood half of what was going on. On the other hand, if what his friends had told him was true, this was the world his father had come from. To some extent, at least, this was Dean's world too, and he wanted to understand it. He made a mental note to ask his mum to sign him up for a French course over the summer holiday.

* * *

Narcissa's Warming and Water-Repellent Charms were barely enough to keep her dry and toasty as the half-rotten ferry passed through gale-force winds and icy-cold rain on its journey through the North Sea. She did not relish this pilgrimage, though she had forced herself to make it every Christmas for some twelve years. Her panther Patronus prowled around the edges of the boat, and the witch had a large bar of Honeydukes chocolate stashed in her handbag, but even so she could sense the accumulated power of the Dementors nearby, their siren song beckoning as though from far away, urging her to succumb to the flood of her memories. Lucius's voice seemed particularly loud this time around, as did the Dark Lord's. She ignored them, just as she had ignored her father's sneer and her mother's taunts for years before that. It took forcibly silencing the vulnerable part of her, the part that still longed for Lucius's love and approval, but that was second nature for the formidable witch. She was, after all, a daughter of the House of Black.

The ferry finally reached the other side, and Narcissa stepped out onto the dock, casually dropping a couple of Sickles in the ferryman's open hand as she did so. The Major of Azkaban awaited her just inside the entrance to the fortress.

'Good day, Mrs Black,' he said with a short bow of the neck. 'Your papers and wand, if you please.'

Narcissa withdrew a scroll of parchment from her handbag and handed it over, followed immediately by her wand. It contained her authorisation to visit Azkaban. Contrary to popular belief, it was in fact quite a routine process to obtain permission to visit close blood relatives in prison, though very tedious. First one had to apply at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who would run an extensive background check on the applicant. Once the application had been approved by the head of the Department, they would forward it on to the Lieutenant of Azkaban. The title carried with it direct jurisdiction over all administrative affairs of the island prison, and since the eighteenth century had been united with the position of Minister for Magic. (In fact, the very title 'Minister for Magic' was informal – the person who held that office was traditionally appointed by the Queen as 'Lieutenant of Azkaban'.) Once the Lieutenant had given his approval, then the permit required final approval from the Constable of Azkaban. This last office was purely ceremonial, and had been so since the thirteenth century. It was currently a hereditary title, passed on within the Doge family for generations. Once the Constable had signed the permit, he returned it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where the applicant was obliged to pick it up. All in all, the process took at least three months, and often longer.

Once the Major had examined her permit, he escorted her inside.

'Would you care for a cup of hot chocolate before you visit your sister, Mrs Malfoy, er, Mrs Black?' he asked.

Narcissa shook her head, graciously ignoring his error. 'No, thank you. I'm afraid I must leave as soon as possible.'

The Major nodded sadly, and Narcissa pitied him. It was, of course, an honour to be appointed Major of Azkaban, given every year to the most promising new Auror, and it brought with it a significant stipend, but she thought it must be dreadfully lonely, not to mention depressing.

He walked ahead of her, clearing the Dementors as they went, and at length they reached a familiar, grimy cell. The Major unlocked it and allowed Narcissa to enter. The blonde witch barely managed not to gasp. Bella was sitting in a corner of the cell, one leg twisted up behind her neck. Her eyes were vacant, and she giggled madly.

'Bella, dear?' Narcissa said hesitantly. 'It's your sister, Cissy. I've come to visit you.'

If Bella was aware of Narcissa's presence, she gave no indication of it. Her eyes remained blank, and she made no sound other than a terrible wheezing cough.

Narcissa frowned and removed a box from her handbag. She set it gingerly on the bed, careful not actually to touch the linens, which were in desperate need of laundering. It gave Narcissa agony to know that her sister was being kept in such a horrible place, especially when Lucius had got off so easily. But Bella had been far too proud to use the Imperius defence, and everyone would have known it was rubbish anyway. Bella had been able to throw off the Imperius Curse since before she started Hogwarts.

'I hope you like it,' Narcissa said quietly. 'It's a chocolate cake. I baked it myself.' She fiddled with the latch on her handbag. 'I know you prefer fruitcake, but I thought that, under the circumstances...' She trailed off. Bella was still completely nonresponsive.

'Sweet Merlin, I don't know why I bother,' Narcissa snapped in frustration, trying forcibly to hold back the hot tears that threatened to burst forth at any moment. 'You don't even know I'm here. Goodbye, Bella. Happy Christmas.'

She had just raised her hand to knock on the door and ask the Major to let her out, when a horrible rasping noise came from behind her. Narcissa froze. Bella was _singing_.

'Three little witch-maids, dancing by the sea,' she grunted in a low voice. Narcissa nearly cried when she recalled the beautiful voice her sister had once had. 'Grey eyes and pure blood, all pretty as can be.'

Narcissa smiled, in spite of herself. It was a lullaby their mother had sung to them when they were little girls. It had always been their favourite, of course, since there were three of them, just like the witch-maids in the song.

Suddenly Bella drew a long, harsh breath. 'FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS!' she roared, then cackled. 'They've hidden me from my master, but he'll come for me. He'll come for his most faithful, his most devoted servant. And I'll make them pay for all they've done!' She turned to look at Narcissa, and her eyes were no longer blank, but burned with passionate intensity. 'Go to him, Cissy!' she urged. 'Run and tell the Dark Lord about his Bella. Tell him how even here she thinks only of him, how to serve him.'

Narcissa wasn't sure how to respond, so she kept quiet. Bella didn't seem to require her interaction anyway.

'Three little witch-maids, dancing by the sea,' she muttered, quiet once again.

Narcissa walked over and ran her hand gently along Bella's cheek. Her sister stared at her, the fire gone from her eyes, a strange haze all that was left in its place.

'Happy Christmas, Bella,' Narcissa said, then turned to leave. She thought she could hear a faint whisper as the door shut behind her, but decided she was imagining things.

'Happy Christmas, Cissy.'

* * *

Dean had been to Gringotts before, of course. That was the only place one could change sterling into Galleons, and Wizarding shops never accepted Muggle money. But the Muggleborn experience was quite different from that of the typical Wizarding customer. For one thing, Monetary Exchange could only be accessed through a side entrance, which was far less imposing than the massive marble entrance hall through which he and his companions were now walking. Moreover, Monetary Exchange was staffed exclusively by witches and wizards, meaning that Muggle parents never had to deal with goblins.

Ceres and Achilles, however, seemed perfectly at ease, even bored at the whole affair. They nodded lazily at the guards as they passed into the main part of the building, and then steered Dean into a different direction when he attempted to join a long queue.

'That's not for us,' Achilles whispered into his ear, and led them to a massive desk at one end of the hall, where a single goblin sat undisturbed, poring over massive leather volumes and copying documents with a quill.

Achilles coughed loudly when they approached the desk, and the goblin looked up irritably from his notes. His expression shifted to curiosity when he saw Achilles, and then to visible discomfort when he saw Ceres.

'What can I do for you?' he asked.

'Mr Lestrange here wishes to examine his vault,' Achilles said in a strong voice, causing heads to turn all over the bank.

The goblin looked at Dean sceptically.

'This is Mr Lestrange?' he sneered.

Dean gulped, feeling very uncomfortable. However, he was wearing a set of very fine dress robes that Aries had lent him, and he had been playing the part of Lord Mini-Mort for most of the term. This was no different. He stood straight and stared the goblin straight in the eye.

'Indeed,' he drawled, imitating Draco's diction. 'And the time has come for me to enter into my inheritance.'

The goblin frowned, but when he spoke again it was with a bit more courtesy.

'As far as the Bank is aware, there are only three living persons with access to the Lestrange vault,' he said. 'They are all unfortunately detained for the time being. Might I ask on what basis the young master claims the right to access the family vault?'

'My father was the late Roland Lestrange,' Dean said, with rather more confidence than he felt.

The goblin's eyes widened in surprise. 'I see. You are aware that we shall have to verify this claim before allowing you access to your vault?'

Achilles nodded. 'We are.'

'And, if I may ask, sir, what is your connexion with the Lestrange family?' the goblin asked with a snarl, though Dean thought his eyes glinted with fear.

Achilles was nonplussed. 'I am Mr Lestrange's solicitor, naturally.'

The goblin's eyes shifted to Ceres, but looked away quickly when she smirked at him.

'Very well,' he said reluctantly. 'Mr Lestrange, if you would give me your hand.'

Dean held his right hand out towards the goblin, who drew a long silver dagger from a dragonhide sheath. He pricked the edge of Dean's index finger and smeared the bloody knife against a stone, rune-inscribed tablet that lay on his desk. The goblin's eyes widened briefly at what he saw, then quickly returned to normal.

'Welcome to Gringotts, Mr Lestrange,' he said. 'Your identity has been confirmed. I must confess I am very curious as to how your late father managed to have a son without the birth appearing in our records.'

'That is Mr Lestrange's affair,' Achilles said coldly.

The goblin sneered. 'Indeed.' He rang a gong, and another goblin appeared beside the desk.

'Holdfast will escort you to your vault, Mr Lestrange,' he said, his features twisted into a horrible caricature of a smile. 'Have a _pleasant_ day.'

Something about the way the goblin said 'pleasant' sent a very unpleasant chill up Dean's spine. He brushed it off, though, and followed Ceres, Achilles and Holdfast to a rickety cart that carried them down into the depths of the earth at breathtaking speed. They plunged deeper and deeper, making sharp turns and odd spins that left Dean feeling as though he'd ridden the wildest roller coaster of his life. Achilles seemed to enjoy the ride as much as Dean did, but Ceres sat very primly in her seat, not budging in the slightest, even when the cart screeched to a sudden stop.

They disembarked from the cart and made their way to a very large vault that was flanked by twin torches. Holdfast let them inside, and suddenly Dean understood why Aries and Draco took so much for granted. Inside the vault were mountains of treasure, centuries-worth of accumulated wealth. Piles of gold and silver pressed up against stacks of priceless artefacts. Precious gems glistened all about him, and one wall of the vault was covered entirely with wicked-looking weapons.

'Leave us, goblin,' Ceres commanded in a tone that would brook no disobedience. Unfortunately, Holdfast seemed less in awe of the young witch than the goblin upstairs had been.

'Bank policy, madam,' Holdfast growled. 'Terribly sorry. We don't leave customers unattended in the vaults. It's very dangerous, you know.'

Ceres' eyes flashed, and she launched into a harsh, guttural diatribe in a language that Dean could only assume was Gobbledegook. Holdfast's eyes went wider with each vituperative phrase, and Ceres continued with no sign of stopping soon.

'_Khèl ghôrakh mïn farzað!_' she snapped at the end, and finally fell silent.

Holdfast seemed to be struggling with himself for a moment, but eventually he gritted his teeth and bowed to his customers.

'I trust that Madam will pardon a foolish goblin,' he said. 'I meant no offence.'

'_Khija'un!_' Ceres snarled, drawing her wand, and the goblin scattered out of the vault, leaving them alone. She turned to Dean and gave him a smile. 'That's the only way to deal with these sub-human creatures, Dean,' she said matter-of-factly. 'One cannot afford to show them even a moment's weakness.'

'What on earth did you say to him, Ca-, er, Ceres?' Achilles asked her.

Ceres smiled cruelly. 'I recited _The_ _Lay of Destruction_,' she said. 'Then I reminded him that I am a direct descendant in the male line of Phoebus Black.'

Achilles looked as though he was torn between shock and admiration. 'But wasn't he...?'

The witch nodded. 'Precisely.'

'Great Merlin,' Achilles breathed. '_The Lay of Destruction_ is a goblin poem that tells the story of a massive massacre of goblins that took place during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612,' he explained to Dean. 'Over ten thousand goblins were slaughtered by a single wizard, Phoebus Black, in a night and a day. The goblins call him Phoebus the Bloody.' He glanced at Ceres. 'Most wizards avoid bringing up his name, because it stirs up bad feelings.'

'It also reminds the goblins with just whom they are dealing,' Ceres said proudly. 'I told the filthy beast that Phoebus's magic flows through my veins, and that I relish the opportunity to prove myself in battle.'

_All right_, Dean thought to himself. _That's just frightening._

Achilles then began to help Dean collect enough Galleons for Christmas shopping, school expenses and a few other 'necessary items', but Dean couldn't stay focussed. Instead he watched Ceres with horrified fascination as she glided about the vault, picking up various chalices, bowls and whatnot. When she snatched delightedly at a golden cup adorned with a badger, Dean said nothing. When she tossed it into the air and reduced it to ashes with a burst of fire from her wand, he pointedly turned his attention back to Achilles, who was still putting gold into a sack.

'Go ahead and take out a bit more,' he said. 'I've a mind to buy one of those new Firebolts.'


	64. Part II: Chapter 35

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. ****Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 35

On Christmas Eve, Harry experienced the most powerfully vivid of his visions to date.

He had gone to bed as usual, relishing the luscious decadence of the heated duvet and the enchanted mattress. The beds at the chateau were centuries old, and had been handcrafted with intricate spellwork in ways that no wizard since had been able to duplicate. Sleeping on one of the chateau's beds was like floating on a cloud, at least until it was time to wake up, at which point the bed would gradually become less comfortable until it had brought one to the point of waking, naturally and without any sudden shocks. Family legend had it that Harfang Longbottom had been so entranced by his stay at the chateau that he had attempted to purchase one of the beds and take it home with him, only to be sadly disappointed. The bed had turned out to be extraordinarily comfortable wherever it was used, but its particular magic was tightly bound to the chateau itself, and it would not work properly in any other location.

As always when in France, Harry had drifted into sleep without any difficulty, in this instance being especially inclined to drowsiness as a consequence of the enormous meal he had just finished, one that had been remarkably toothsome even by his great-grandmother's exacting standards. Moments after his eyes had shut, the dream began.

He found himself locked in a cupboard, which was very dark and filled with spiders. He couldn't remember why Uncle Vernon had put him in there, only that the corpulent man had been very angry. He didn't like the cupboard at all, but, oddly enough, he felt safer there than he ever did in the world outside. Here at least he could sit quietly and think, without his filthy Muggle relatives sniping at him nonstop.

_Filthy Muggles?_ he thought for a moment, confused by the unfamiliar term. Then he remembered. He was Aries Black, the Heir of Slytherin and the next Dark Lord. His overly-large rags changed into fine midnight-blue velvet robes in the twinkling of an eye, and the cupboard blasted open with a hiss and a thought. He was a god amidst mortals, what did he have to fear from Muggles?

The Black Lord stepped out of the cupboard, suddenly fully-grown, tall and muscular, not to mention devastatingly handsome – just as he had always pictured himself in his boyhood fantasies.

He hissed, and Kaa, still whole and in no way suffering from having been turned into potions ingredients, came slithering down the stairs at his summons. He shared a wink and a smirk with his faithful friend, and then strode into the living room, his snake following behind him and his wand in his hand. It was not any ordinary, pathetic wand. In his boyish dreams it had always been the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. What lesser wand could possibly be worthy of the Heir of Slytherin?

He stepped into the room and saw the Dursleys – no, the worthless Muggle scum – watching the telly – rather, that ridiculous Muggle contraption whose name a great sorcerer such as himself could not possibly be troubled to learn. He snarled at his tormentors and raised his wand to strike, when Uncle Vernon turned and glared at him, his visage transforming into that of Pollux Black.

'Half-blood vermin,' he spat. 'To think that I took you into my house. How dare you insinuate yourself into my good graces?'

'That's what he does, isn't it, Poll?' Aunt Cassie drawled from the seat where Aunt Petunia had been moments before. 'He's like all the other Muggle swine, trying to steal power and position that rightfully belong to his betters.'

'What do you have to say for yourself, Potter?' Draco demanded, having taken the place of Dudley. 'If it wasn't for you, I'd still have my father.' He snarled viciously. 'Not to mention I'd never have had to play second fiddle to the likes of you.'

'Whatever were you thinking, Marius, taking him to live with us?' Aunt Clytemnestra asked, calmly sipping a glass of sherry. 'He ought to have stayed in that cupboard under the stairs where he belongs, instead of dirtying the hallowed halls of Malfoy Manor.'

Uncle Marius sighed from where he stood, leaning against the Dursleys' fake fireplace, within which a bright green fire burned fiercely.

'It was my mistake,' he admitted. 'I had hoped that we could use the brat to secure readmission to our families.'

'That was foolish,' Narcissa snapped. 'And proof of your fundamental unworthiness. No _true _Black would ever dare to smuggle such a creature into our homes.' She turned and glared at Sirius, who shrugged.

'What can I say, Cissy?' he replied with his most charming smile. 'He's James's son, and I made a promise. A warlock always keeps his word, you know.' His smile vanished. 'Even if those bloody Potters are the reason I wasted the best decade of my life in Azkaban.'

'Damn good of you,' Abraxas said. 'I shouldn't have kept my promise under circumstances like that. You oughtn't to hold yourself to such a high standard.'

Remus snorted. 'I doubt Prongs and Lily would blame you, Padfoot,' he said. 'Remember, it's Harry's fault they're dead.'

Suddenly Harry was small once again, and Aunt Petunia loomed over him.

'Why can't you do anything right?' she snapped. 'You're always ruining everything for Dudders. Just like your good-for-nothing parents. Freaks, the lot of you.'

The voices merged into a terrible cacophony of insults and curses.

'Freak.'

'Miserable half-blood.'

'Fraud.'

'It's your fault they're dead,' Sirius said with a vicious sneer. 'James. Lily. Uncle Marius. They're all dead because of you.' Suddenly he was Voldemort, and languorously flicked his wand at Harry. '_Avada kedavra_.'

The pain was unimaginable. A bright green light filled the room, and Harry's screams mingled with those of his parents. His scar burned ferociously.

A bell tolled, as though from a church far off in the distance. Once, twice. A funeral peal.

Privet Drive vanished, Dursleys and all, and Harry found himself once again in a graveyard, but this one was the ancient churchyard in Godric's Hollow. The tiny church was packed, though it was the middle of the night, and singing rang through the air.

'Joy to the world!' the voices sang in awkward harmony, making up in festive exuberance what they lacked in technical skill.

Harry stumbled into the churchyard and made his way to the familiar graves.

James Potter. Lily Potter.

His own stone had been repaired at some point, and labelled once again with the ironic inscription: 'The Boy Who Lived'. Oddly enough, the sight of his grave marker no longer filled Harry with anger. On the contrary, something about it felt very true. Part of him _had_ died that night in Godric's Hollow, part of him that he would never be able to recover. He fell to his knees in front of his parents' graves.

Riddle had taken away his childhood with that curse, his family, his innocence. In a way, everything since then had been so much make-believe, an enormous prank played on the Wizarding world. Well, Harry might have been a Marauder's son, but he was tired of games and charades. He wanted truth.

He wanted his parents.

The congregation within the church launched into another Christmas carol, but Harry curled up in a foetal position and wept, crying for his mum and dad.

But they wouldn't come.

* * *

That same night, Sirius had the Stone in his possession, and he too experienced a vision.

He stood in the drawing room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and he was sixteen years old.

'Such a disappointment,' his mother snarled. 'I didn't go through thirty-six hours of hard labour to bring you into the world just to have this despicable ingratitude hurled back in my face.'

'I didn't ask to be born,' Sirius snapped back.

'Quite right,' Walburga Black retorted. 'That misfortune was purely my mistake. Had I known what sort of abomination I was spawning, I should certainly have prevented it.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Certain special potions would have done the trick nicely.' She held up a leather journal between two fingers, as though it was a soiled napkin. Sirius recognised it at once. If she had read it...

'That's mine!' he shouted. 'Give that back!'

'I must say, Sirius,' Aunt Druella drawled from the divan. 'Your private thoughts make for very interesting reading, if exceedingly scandalous.' She sounded titillated by the thought, the opportunity for juicy gossip far outweighing any other concern.

Pollux Black harrumphed in his chair by the fireplace.

'To think that my own flesh and blood could produce such a disgrace,' he said. 'I blame your father. That line of the family has always been unstable. Just look at Uncle Sirius.'

Orion Black said nothing. He merely sat in his high-backed armchair, calmly sipping brandy and reading the _Prophet_ as his family waged war around him.

'What do you say to that, Mr Black?' Walburga whispered to her husband, her every syllable dripping venom. 'Is it true that the apple doesn't roll far from the tree?'

Orion raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes fixed firmly on his paper, far away from the firstborn son who looked just like him.

'I've no idea what you mean, Mrs Black,' he responded. 'I was a prefect in Slytherin House. I never consorted with any wizards beneath my station. I have never been a friend of either Mudbloods or blood traitors. None of this nonsense has anything to do with me.'

Sirius's heart sank. His father had just given his mother permission to do what she willed, and the results could not be good for him. He gritted his teeth and turned to leave the room. A sudden curse brought him to his knees.

'Where are you running off to, ickle Sirius?' Bella taunted. 'Going to play with your friends?'

'They won't have you, you know,' his mother said. 'Not once they know who and what you really are. Even they wouldn't debase themselves so far as to associate with the likes of you.'

'He died cursing you, Padfoot,' Remus said from the corridor. 'He knew it was your fault he was dead.'

'Why, Sirius?' Draco demanded. 'Why did you kill my father?'

Harry sauntered into the room, his looks just like James's, but his manner all Black.

'Because that's what he does, Draco,' he drawled. 'He murders parents to steal their children and raise them as his own.'

Walburga fired off another curse.

'What else could we expect from someone so unworthy?' she snapped. 'Shame of my flesh! Abomination! Foul degradation of our noble lineage!'

'Some best friend you turned out to be,' Remus growled. 'Taking James's kid and claiming him as your own? That's low, Padfoot.'

'Why should he care about that?' Dumbledore said, emerging from the fireplace in a shower of red sparks. 'He's a Black. Everyone knows that Blacks cannot be trusted.'

Dorea Black-Potter sat very primly on a chaise longue, sipping a cup of tea.

'I took you in, Sirius,' she said grimly. 'I treated you as my very own son. The only thing I ever asked of you was to take care of my boy, and look how you botched it up.'

'Worthless,' Walburga sneered.

'Disgrace,' Orion added, still looking at his newspaper.

'Abomination.'

'Filth.'

'Shame.'

'Disappointment.'

'Traitor.'

And then came the insult that hurt worst of all:

'He'a Black. Just like all the rest.'

Sirius couldn't take anymore. He threw himself through the doors and ran from that house and from all the horrible memories it contained, tears running down his face as never before. He ran through city and countryside, all of England seeming to pass by him in a rush of colour and sound. Finally he drew to a stop. He was in Godric's Hollow.

The sleepy village was completely silent, and every window was dark. Falling snow settled on the rooftops, and smoke quietly puffed out of the chimneys. Sirius felt himself drawn inexorably to the graveyard, the same one he had visited religiously ever since he had been freed from Azkaban. The final resting place of his dearest friend.

Gentle sobs filled the air, and Sirius sped up, running the rest of the way. There, lying curled up into a ball atop his parents' grave, was Harry, looking like himself again, or rather like Aries. Like Sirius.

_Like he's supposed to look_, Sirius thought, and hated himself for it.

Half-afraid lest he be rejected again, yet spurred on by a strong paternal instinct, Sirius knelt beside the disconsolate boy and gently rubbed his back.

'It's all right, Harry,' he whispered. 'I'm here.'

* * *

'Happy Christmas, Padfoot,' James announced, a joyous grin on his face. 'And Happy Christmas to you too, Harry.'

Harry and Sirius were standing in what appeared to be a vast hall, filled with light. No one else was there at all, except for James, who was dressed in Muggle jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with a bright phoenix.

'D-dad?' Harry stammered, and ran into James's embrace. Sirius tried not to feel jealous when he saw them – he knew that was wrong – and backed away to give them their privacy.

'Come here, you idiot,' James said, sighing in fond exasperation, and motioned for Sirius to join them. He happily did so, his eyes growing moist as he held the two Potters in a tight hug.

'You've done it,' James said proudly. 'Both of you. You've become true Philosophers now, and you're finally worthy to handle the deepest mysteries of the Philosopher's Stone.'

'Is that why you're here?' Harry asked, and James nodded.

'Is it really you, Prongs?' Sirius asked, looking awkwardly at his feet.

'Yeah, Padfoot,' James said with a soft smile, clapping his friend's shoulder. 'It's me. The real me. More real even than you ever knew me on earth.'

Sirius wept. 'I'm so sorry, Prongs,' he said. 'It's my fault. The whole damn thing. And I'm sorry about Harry. I'm not trying to steal him, honestly. He's a wonderful boy, and he's yours, and I'm trying not to take your place.'

Harry looked up at Sirius in confusion. 'But no,' he said. 'It's my fault. I'm the reason Riddle killed them. That's why you don't really want me, isn't it?'

James laughed, and it was a wonderful, rich laugh that made one glad to be alive.

'You two are such prats,' he said, and then laughed again when Sirius and Harry turned to give him identical glares. 'Look, Padfoot,' he continued once he had caught his breath. 'I made you Harry's godfather for a reason. I _want _you to take my place. Harry will always be my son, and I'm proud of him. But he needs a dad, and you're it.' He turned to Harry. 'And as for you, my boy, don't feel that you have to live up to anything. I know for a fact that Sirius loves you like a son, and the others – pack of nutters that they are – they love you too. It's not a game or a prank. It's your life, and I want you to live it.'

He suddenly knocked their heads together.

'And both of you stop blaming yourselves for what happened to me and Lily,' he said. 'We died, all right? But that's Voldemort's fault, not yours. It's terrible, but worse things could happen. Do you understand me?'

Sirius and Harry both hesitated, then nodded.

'Do you really want me?' Harry asked Sirius cautiously. 'You don't hate me?'

Sirius kissed him roughly on the head. 'What are you on about? I could never hate you.' He looked at James apologetically, then chuckled at his friend's stern glare. 'You're my son.'

Harry looked up at Sirius with joy dancing in his eyes. 'Thanks, Dad,' he said. He turned awkwardly to James. 'You too, Dad.'

James smiled and pulled them both into another hug.

'Now that's settled,' he said with a sigh of relief. 'Who's up for a game of Quidditch?'

* * *

Neither Harry nor Sirius ever understood exactly what happened that night, or how much of what they had witnessed had been real. But they knew that when the joyous peal of church bells woke them early on Christmas morning, they were not at the chateau in France. Instead they were lying side by side on top of James and Lily Potter's graves in Godric's Hollow, huddled close together against the cold. Sirius could feel the heavy weight of the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket. The sun was just beginning to shine, and the birds were chirping exuberantly. Both wizards found themselves in unusual good cheer for so early in the morning, especially when one considered that they had been spirited from their extraordinarily-comfortable beds in the middle of the night and dropped in a frozen cemetery.

'I guess it's morning already,' Sirius said as he sat up and stretched his arms. 'Happy Christmas, son.'

Harry smiled at him. 'Happy Christmas, Dad.' He laughed. 'I suppose, when they say the Stone's powerful, they really mean it.'

'Aries, my boy, I've a feeling we've only begun to see the full extent of its powers,' Sirius replied.

Both wizards rose to their feet, and Sirius Conjured a bouquet of flowers, which he laid by the tombstone.

Harry yawned. 'I suppose we ought to get back to France,' he said. 'The others will worry, and Draco will want to open his presents.'

Sirius pulled him into a hug and tousled his hair.

'What a load of crap,' he said with a chuckle. 'You think I don't know that even a brilliant Philosopher such as yourself can get excited over Christmas presents?'

Harry grinned. 'That depends. What did I get?'

Sirius swatted the back of his head in reply.

'You'll find out when we get back to the chateau,' he said. 'So, any ideas for a Portkey?'

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated, casting his gaze to the small bulge in his father's pocket, where the Philosopher's Stone lay hidden.

'Do you think?' he asked.

Sirius furrowed his brow pensively. 'If it could bring us here, why not back again?'

He checked around carefully to make sure the coast was clear, then discreetly removed the Stone from his pocket with his right hand, whilst grabbing onto Harry's arm with his left. He thought hard, concentrating on the chateau, and the Stone began to glow brightly. The cemetery vanished from sight, and father and son found themselves suddenly in Sirius's bedroom at the chateau, with someone banging on the locked door.

'Come on, Dad!' Draco's voice shouted. 'It's Christmas! Time to open presents!'

Sirius secured the Stone, then exchanged a wry grin with Harry before he Vanished the door, sending Draco and Dean tumbling onto the carpet. They both felt it would turn out to be a very merry Christmas indeed.


	65. Part II: Chapter 36

_**Growing Up Black**_

**Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.**

_Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU._

**A/N: I apologise to all for the long time between updates. I confess to having been rather overwhelmed by life events over the past couple of months. Fortunately, I can say that the cause was a happy one: my wife recently gave birth to our youngest son! Things seem to be settling down now, and I look forward to resuming a regular posting schedule. Thank you all for reading, and especially for your thoughtful reviews!**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 36

Being a megalomaniacal Dark Lord has many perquisites, to be sure, but the profession has always been attended by numerous and unfortunate disadvantages. Not least of these latter is the annoying tendency on the part of one's enemies to assume that simply because one teeters on the brink of insanity, one is necessarily an utter nincompoop. Lord Voldemort had been many things in his lifetime – grandiose, egotistical, over-confident, arrogant, self-centred, devilishly handsome – but he had never been stupid.

Having learnt to his very great distress of the unusual connexion he shared with the Black-Potter brat during the disappointment at Riddle House, the crafty sorcerer had spent countless hours in anxious contemplation, with the end of ensuring that such a tragic calamity would never befall him again. He drastically revised many beloved strategies and ruthlessly discarded long-cherished plans, all the while maintaining powerful Occlumental blocks against any unwanted intrusions from his juvenile counterpart. Lord Voldemort was far too clever to presume that any part of the grand schemes he had formulated decades prior could emerge unscathed from this new difficulty. Now that his unexpectedly-powerful adversary had gained access to his mind – and thus to his plans – Lord Voldemort had to begin anew.

The Dark Lord had seen at once that the most vulnerable element of his long-term strategy for world conquest and eventual apotheosis was also the most crucial: his Horcruxes. They were the key to his immortality; so long as they remained safe, he could ultimately withstand any assault. On the other hand, if they were to be lost, the consequences would be...dire. Therefore, as soon as his spirit had abandoned Lucius's mortal remains, Lord Voldemort had bent his will fully on the singular aim of regaining a body as soon as possible. Only once he had returned to his full powers would the Dark Lord have the opportunity to secure his most treasured possessions.

Barty Crouch had proved indispensible in this endeavour. The boy had gone quite mad – even by Death Eater standards, as Lord Voldemort confided to his diary – but he remained feverishly loyal to the Great Cause. The brief resurgence of the Death Eaters during the previous year had effected a change in Crouch's latent Dark Mark, and he had developed enough strength of will to break free of his imprisonment and go searching for his master. He was a capable wizard, especially when given suitable direction, and the process had gone remarkably well. Crouch had also inherited a small pile of gold from his mother, which, though piddling in comparison to the vast sums Lord Voldemort had controlled before the Malfoys had abandoned their due allegiance, nonetheless proved sufficient for the Dark Lord to acquire a small abandoned castle on the Continent.

Once securely lodged in his new lair, Lord Voldemort first distracted Albus Dumbledore by sending him an overblown announcement of his return. (The Dark Lord suspected that the old fool sent him that hideous tea set purposely in order to clash with his drawing room decor.) As expected, Severus Snape appeared within twenty-four hours, claiming that his loyalty had never faltered, and seeking to re-enter his master's service. Said master, being rather hard-up for henchmen, graciously received the spy with open arms, only Cruciating him for half-an-hour as punishment. He nonetheless resolved only to entrust the miscreant with menial tasks, and never to allow him too close to any sensitive information.

That settled, Lord Voldemort turned his attention to securing the precious fragments of his immortal soul. With only a spy and a madman free to serve him, the wizard decided to act with great discretion. He slipped away in the dead of night from his tiny fortress in the Pyrenees, and made his way via an unnecessarily-circuitous route to the thrice-damned hamlet of Little Hangleton, a miserable hellhole, completely unworthy of the honour it had acquired by being his ancestral home. (In his as-yet-unfinished autobiography, the first twelve volumes of which were nearly ready for publication, Lord Voldemort claimed a more suitable origin for himself, purporting to have been conceived in the very centre of Stonehenge at the stroke of midnight on All Hallows Eve, the product of two unnamed and ultimately-insignificant purebloods.) He half-expected and half-hoped to find his forebears' hovel unmolested, preserved inviolate under the many layers of enchantments he had woven around it. The reader can imagine the rage that coursed through the Dark Lord's veins when he discovered that only ruins remained of the Gaunt hut, and that the priceless Horcrux had vanished without a trace.

Suffice it to say that the Muggle authorities never could understand how it happened that every single inhabitant of Little Hangleton should perish within a single night. The Wizarding authorities understood only too well, and a certain Dolores Umbridge was charged with the cover-up, which task she accomplished masterfully, even managing to Obliviate the Aurors who had been dispatched to the scene. The Ministry had never seen such efficiency as Madam Umbridge managed that week. Within seventy-two hours, only three souls knew the truth of what had transpired on that horrible night: the Minister for Magic, Madam Umbridge and the perpetrator himself. Others would suspect, of course – most notably one very elderly Chief Warlock – but, without evidence, those suspicions could never acquire the assuredness of conviction, let alone the certainty of fact.

As for Lord Voldemort, he had all but forgotten the massacre once the final Killing Curse had left his wand. He had far more pressing matters on his mind, for his worst fears had come to pass. Not only had his enemies learnt of his most carefully-guarded secret, but they had actually obtained – surely not, Merlin forbid, destroyed? – one of the indispensible elements of his ultimate divinisation. Worst of all, Lord Voldemort could not be absolutely certain which of his adversaries he ought to blame for the sacrilege. On the one hand, Dumbledore, for all his innumerable failings, remained a deadly strategist, and had been in the process of acquiring intelligence on his former pupil for decades. (How else had he managed to select bone china in precisely Lord Voldemort's least favourite shade of pink?) On the other hand, Aries Black _alias_ Harry Potter, young though he was, had enjoyed the unparalleled privilege of direct and unfettered access into the Dark Lord's memories, for however brief a time. Lord Voldemort shuddered as he imagined the boy boldly trespassing into the inner sanctum of his mind and simply plucking the information from his thoughts. The sheer audacity sickened him.

In the end, the Dark Lord thought it more likely that Potter was behind this outrage. Dumbledore was a genius, to be sure, but great age had made him predictable, and his approach was characterised by an overabundance of caution. Furthermore, the old man had long known, as had Lord Voldemort himself, that one ought never to trust anyone else with one's most prized secrets. Dumbledore's inner thoughts were his own, and he treated his friends and allies as so many pawns on a chessboard. Lord Voldemort understood and appreciated this, and had planned his protections accordingly. It would be exceedingly difficult for a lone wizard, however powerful, to obtain any of the Horcruxes, let alone all of them.

Potter, however, had possessed the foresight even at the age of six to surround himself with a vast array of great and powerful wizards, and bound them to himself with intense bonds of loyalty, which Lord Voldemort did not delude himself into thinking he could replicate. The Dark Lord feared nothing, of course, but he found himself quite dismayed by three of Potter's minions in particular: Abraxas Malfoy, Cassiopeia Black and Sirius Black.

Abraxas Malfoy was a perfectly-respectable duellist and an adequate strategist, and the Dark Lord regretted the loss of his limitless vaults. But the greatest threat the old bastard posed lay in his extensive knowledge of the way the Dark Lord operated. Between him and Lucius, a Malfoy had been intimately involved with nearly every major operation Lord Voldemort had ever undertaken. If one assumed that Potter had indeed managed to steal most or all of the Dark Lord's memories – and it would be arrant foolishness to presume otherwise – it was old man Malfoy who would guide the boy through them. Old Malfoy also exercised a great deal of influence in the upper echelons of Wizarding society. If he threw his considerable support behind the boy, Lord Voldemort had no illusions that he would be able to recruit significant numbers of new followers from the old families.

Cassiopeia Black, though undoubtedly brilliant, had always been too headstrong and unstable for Lord Voldemort to consider enlisting her talents in his service. Her rashness, so very characteristic of the Black line, would prove a significant liability for Potter's forces. However, her knowledge of the Dark Arts was encyclopaedic – as was her knowledge of the Wizarding world's darkest secrets. If anyone would recognise a Horcrux for what it was, or know how to destroy one, it would be she. For that matter, Lord Voldemort thought with a scowl, he would not be at all surprised if the old crone had created a Horcrux of her own at some point along the way. In any case, he would be well-advised to proceed on that assumption.

Then there was Sirius Black. The young wizard was foolish and headstrong at times, it was true, but he would be fiercely loyal to the Potter boy, no matter the cost. His allegiance to Potter ensured the boy the support of one of the wealthiest and most venerable Wizarding families in Europe. Furthermore, Black possessed charm and charisma aplenty, not to mention near-genius intelligence. He might be erratic and needlessly-emotional, but Lord Voldemort thought that Black could be quite an asset in the hands of a skilled master, as Potter had shown himself to be. The Dark Lord was reminded strongly of his own most faithful lieutenant, now languishing in Azkaban, though even he would not dare to make the comparison between Bellatrix and her hated cousin to her face.

The Dark Lord rose into the sky under his own power – he had always thought broomsticks ridiculously pedestrian – and made his way northwards. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He had hoped to make his dear Nagini into the last of his Horcruxes, but he saw now that such a course of action would prove stupid. With the old fool orchestrating his damnable plans on one side, and the young whelp pressing in from the other, Lord Voldemort felt more vulnerable than he had since he before he had created his first Horcrux. For his last, he needed something grand and impenetrable, something no one would ever suspect.

A wicked grin spread across the Dark sorcerer's pale features as his sharp mind concocted a plan. He would never have dared try anything so bold had Dumbledore still been Headmaster at Hogwarts, but the old fool was gone, and no one currently at the castle had anywhere near the power necessary to withstand the most powerful wizard who had ever lived, or would yet live. His scheme would succeed, and Lord Voldemort would be eternally invincible.

He even knew whom he would kill to perform the ritual, and cackled in delight at the delicious irony.

* * *

HOGWARTS GAMEKEEPER DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT

Rubeus Hagrid, long-time Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, perished yesterday in a conflagration at his hut on school grounds, _writes Aloysius Sprout, Educational Correspondent_. The incident occurred at approximately three o'clock in the morning, and the smouldering ruins were discovered by Argus Filch, school caretaker, as he made his morning rounds. No one else appears to have suffered any injury. Hogwarts is currently not in session, owing to the Christmas holidays, and most of the staff and students were away at the time of the incident. As a result, services have been arranged for the beginning of term.

'Hagrid has been a much-beloved fixture at the school for many years,' stated Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. 'His hard work and passion for the many magical creatures who make their home in the Forbidden Forest will be sorely missed.'

The Hogwarts Board of Governors have launched an enquiry into this unfortunate occurrence. Results have yet to be released, but sources speaking under condition of anonymity have disclosed that Mr Hagrid was prone to bouts of intoxication, and it is considered likely that he himself caused the fire during one such bout.

Not all of the Governors share this view, however. Some have indicated that they suspect foul play of some sort to be involved.

'I would point out that nothing of this sort ever took place when Albus Dumbledore was Headmaster of Hogwarts School,' wheezed Hogwarts Governor Elphias Doge. 'We all appreciate the dedication of Headmistress McGonagall, but she is following in the footsteps of a truly great wizard. Perhaps the responsibilities of her office are simply too much for her to handle.'

_The Daily Prophet_ will cover any new developments as they unfold.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore lay down the newspaper and sipped his tea with profoundly-mixed feelings. On the one hand, he felt sorrow at the loss of Hagrid, as well as great concern, for he felt sure that his late friend's death was connected somehow with the strange events in Little Hangleton. His resources were not what they had been, and the Minister had successfully thwarted his attempts to ascertain the truth about that mysterious night, but even Fudge could not obscure the fact that hundreds of Muggles had simply disappeared, and in a place which Dumbledore would forever associate with one Tom Riddle.

On the other hand, Dumbledore could not help but feel a certain satisfaction at the turn events had taken – though he did feel a bit guilty for doing so. Good old Elphias had played his part perfectly, and without even the need for some gentle prompting on his part. The tragedy, unfortunate as it was, would provide the perfect cover for Dumbledore to return as Headmaster. With Voldemort's return, Dumbledore required the unique resources that Hogwarts alone could provide. Unfortunately, one obstacle yet remained: Cassiopeia Black.

Dumbledore had no idea how the old witch had managed to procure evidence of his...dalliance with Gellert, and, frankly, he did not care. The inconvenient fact remained that public awareness of his liaison with the former Dark Lord would undermine trust in his leadership, and that was something that Dumbledore could ill afford in the face of the coming conflict.

The conclusion was straightforward. The Blacks must be neutralised, one way or another. Dumbledore could not fight a war on two fronts. He would much prefer to have the Blacks as allies, to bring Sirius and Remus into the Order of the Phoenix as they had been before. Their talent and treasure would prove immensely beneficial in the fight against Voldemort, and even their less-savoury family members could be useful allies, provided that Sirius could keep them under control.

The alternative was much less attractive: to destroy the Blacks utterly. Dumbledore was not a cruel man; he had never relished the pain of others. However, he could be ruthless when necessary. He could not have accomplished all he had without a certain detachment. That was, after all, the first rule of chess. Every piece is expendable, so long as one succeeds in killing the enemy king. Dumbledore did not exclude himself from this calculus. He was perfectly prepared to sacrifice his own life when the time came, so long as his death would further the overall mission. However, he did not wish to harm anyone needlessly – not even the Blacks.

Besides, Dumbledore had not forgotten the prophecy. He still believed that young Harry would be the key to Voldemort's defeat. The boy was different, certainly, to how he would have been had he remained under the care of his relatives, but nothing Dumbledore had witnessed led him to think that Harry was a bad boy. He had quite a bit of both his natural and his adoptive father in him, and a nasty streak that made Dumbledore most uncomfortable at times, but he had no love for Voldemort, and did not appear to be cruel for cruelty's sake. Dumbledore had high hopes that, with the proper tutelage, of course, young Harry could grow into the better part of his inheritance and rise to the challenge before him.

Dumbledore buttered a scone and took a slow, pensive bite. What if there was a way in which he could kill two birds with one stone? Sirius had regained much of his position in society, but his release from prison had been under very dubious circumstances. In addition, Dumbledore might not possess Cassiopeia's infamous Little Black Book, but he had obtained some intelligence of his own, that, in the proper hands, could be woven into a convincingly-nefarious narrative. At the very least, Dumbledore could discredit Sirius and force him to resign from his professorship. This would have the happy effect of rendering any future accusations from that corner less credible. And, if Dumbledore played his hand carefully, he could intervene just in time to rescue the Blacks from utter ruin, and so secure at least their provisional allegiance.

A smile spread across the aged wizard's lips as he took another sip of tea. Yes, this was definitely the way to go about it. And he knew just the witch with the razor-sharp mind and fiendishly-overactive imagination to bring it about.

* * *

Rita Skeeter was sitting at her desk one boring afternoon, sipping a cup of strong coffee and smoking a cigarette as she tried to figure out which of the high-society matrons she ought to go after next. Druella Black was always a tempting target, but Rita didn't want to mess with the Blacks without solid evidence, not after the last time. Muriel Prewett was too easy, and Rita didn't want people to think that she was picking on the old crone unfairly. Maybe Electra Rosier...?

An owl swooped into the room and dropped a thick package on Rita's desk. The journalist shooed the bird away without a treat. She was on a diet, and if she didn't get to enjoy any tasty nibbles between meals, she didn't see why some dumb owl ought to. The owl squawked briefly in protest, but a few sparks from Rita's wand were enough to send him on his way.

She considered the package carefully. A good bit of the mail she received contained hazardous materials – a fact she didn't mind at all. In fact, she considered it a badge of honour. Still, caution was advised, all the more so since there was no name on the package. The last time she had received a parcel from an anonymous 'admirer', it had been filled with bubotuber pus.

Rita cast all the standard detection spells in quick succession, and then a couple of special ones that she had devised for precisely this purpose. Finding no significant danger, she carefully unknotted the twine and ripped open the packaging. Inside, she discovered a large stack of parchment and a single phial containing a silvery-white substance. She smirked. Memories.

There was no cover letter, so the reporter laid the memories aside for the time being and flipped through the sheets of parchment. Her eyes widened as she read. Some of the material was new, and some of it was old, but she had never seen any of it put together in this way before. Now that she had, it was pretty damning.

She placed the stack of parchment in her secret safe, then glanced over at the phial of memories, snatched it up in her left hand and made her way to the newspaper's Pensieve, which was kept in the library. Fortunately no one was there, so Rita shut and locked the door before pouring the memories into the Pensieve and looking inside.

It was late at night, and she was inside one of the Hogwarts common rooms. Judging by the tacky red and gold colour, it was in the Gryffindor tower. A fire crackled in the fireplace, but the room was empty, except for two teenage boys who were enjoying a late-night game of chess. They were young, but there was no mistaking James Potter's mop and the bad-boy good looks of Sirius Black.

Potter was recounting some silly anecdote, whilst Black was listening with rapt attention.

'And then Smith walks over to Owens and says, "What? Did Ferguson Transfigure Avery into a parakeet again?"'

Black let out a loud bark before losing himself in laughter. Potter just chuckled as he moved his knight, looking very pleased with himself.

'She didn't,' Black said once he'd got himself back under control. 'Not after Owens...'

Potter smirked. 'She did. Your move, Padfoot.'

Black, however, was not looking at the board. Instead, he was staring at Potter with utter adoration in his eyes.

Potter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

'What's wrong, Padfoot?'

And, for an instant, Rita knew what was going to happen before it did. She nearly wet herself with excitement.

Sirius Black leaned over the chessboard and pressed his lips firmly against his best friend's.

Rita tried and failed to express a squeal of delight.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds, as Potter pulled back and pushed Black off him, wiping his lips on the sleeve of his jumper.

'Disgusting!' Potter sputtered. 'What the hell was that, Padfoot? Did Moony and Wormtail put you up to this?'

Black said nothing, but wore a hurt puppy-dog expression on his face. He scrambled to his feet and fled the room, not stopping when Potter called after him.

The memory ended, and Rita quickly collected it and returned to her office, humming a bit under her breath. She had a story to write.


	66. Part II: Chapter 37

**_Growing Up Black  
_**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just having a bit of fun with it.  
**

**A/N - I apologise for the long delay between updates. I've been very busy with work and other real life projects, and, well, let's just say that two boys are a lot more work than one! However, I'm starting to feel on top of things again, and I intend to update more frequently. For the time being, we'll say once a fortnight. Many thanks to all of you for your patience and your kind reviews.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 37

Dean's mother had asked him to come home just before the New Year, so the Year of our Lord 1994 found Harry and Draco sitting around the chateau with little to entertain them. The adults all seemed to be preoccupied with one thing or another – Sirius, Narcissa and Remus had several long conversations with Abraxas and Cassiopeia behind powerful Silencing Charms – and the boys were quite left to their own devices. On the afternoon of January 2nd, the boys were sitting at the large mahogany table in the library, ostensibly working on their holiday homework. The fact that one of the professors was their father and another as good as their uncle had done nothing to reduce their workload. However, the boys did not permit this unfortunate circumstance to impair in any way their enjoyment of the holiday. One of the advantages of the adults' preoccupation with other matters was that it meant that no one was actually around to check up on the boys and make sure they were doing what they said they were. In actual fact, despite their pretence of diligence, the boys were not doing any schoolwork at all. Draco was engrossed in _Waxing Woe_, the Wolfgang Hexley novel Harry had given him for Christmas – Remus had been delighted to learn that the boys shared his secret passion for werewolf thrillers – whilst Harry was hard at work on the fourth draft of his letter to Daphne.

'What do you think of this, Draco?' Harry asked suddenly, earning him a nasty glare from his brother, who had long since tired of giving his opinion on Harry's love letters.

'Shut up, Aries,' Draco snapped. 'I'm trying to read my book.'

'Just listen,' Harry replied. 'I want to make sure it sounds all right. What do you think? "Cauldrons are hot, broomsticks are fast...".'

'I told you to bin the poetry,' Draco interrupted. 'Your rhymes are crap.'

'I really think I've got it this time,' Harry insisted. 'Listen. "Cauldrons are hot, broomsticks are fast...".'

But before Harry could finish his pathetic attempt at poesy, his recitation was mercifully interrupted by an owl pecking at the window. Draco quickly hopped up out of his chair and opened the latch, allowing the bird to fly in. He promptly caught it and snatched the letter off its leg, ignoring the poor creature's squawk of protest. (The owl, have no fear, was not seriously injured; it forgot its misfortune the moment Harry offered it a treat, which it grabbed greedily from his outstretched hand.)

'It's for Aunt Cassie,' Draco announced once he had read the envelope. 'Strange that the owl brought it here.'

'Not really,' Harry replied, gently stroking the owl's feathers. 'She must be in the potions laboratory. There are no windows in there, and the most direct route is through the library and up the corridor.' He walked the owl back to the window and let it out. 'I suppose we ought to take it to her.'

'I suppose,' Draco said, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the envelope. 'I wonder what sort of mail she gets. What do you think it is?'

Harry had returned to his composition work. 'I don't know. It's probably Mr Borgin writing to let her know that her order of freshly-ground mummy powder has finally arrived. Or maybe it's the latest gossip from Hortensia Selwyn.'

That answer was not good enough for Draco, who had always suspected adults of being involved in much more interesting affairs than they let on, but had never before had much of an opportunity to test his suspicions.

'Let's open it,' he said to his brother.

That got Harry's attention. The dark-haired boy looked up from his letter and stared at Draco in wide-eyed surprise.

'You want to open Aunt Cassie's mail?' he repeated, incredulous at the preposterous suggestion. 'Are you mad? Have you any idea what she'll do to you when she finds out?'

Draco shrugged. 'After facing the Riddle-possessed corpse of my late father, there's not much that can frighten me.'

Harry had to concede his brother's point. He laid his quill carefully on the table, then put the stopper in his inkwell.

'All right then,' he said. 'It's not as though she's any right to scold us for breaking rules after her little stunt with the Elixir of Life. Let's see the letter.'

Draco drew his wand and examined the envelope. It had been sealed with wax, which made the task of opening it somewhat more complicated, but by no means impossible. Careful to aim his wand with surgical precision, he used a Severing Charm to separate the wax from the parchment.

'Not bad,' Harry observed, 'but you tore the envelope a bit.'

'That will be covered up when I reseal it,' Draco replied, and fished the letter out of the envelope. He unfolded it carefully, and a photograph fell out. Harry snatched the photo up before Draco could see it.

'Holy shit!' he exclaimed. 'It's Dad and, er, my other dad. They're...well..._snogging_.'

Draco yanked the photograph out of Harry's hands and examined it himself. His jaw fell open.

'Dad and your real dad?' he breathed. 'They were...like that?'

Harry shrugged. 'Looks that way, at least assuming the photograph is real.' He puffed up his chest defensively. 'Have you a problem with that?'

Draco hesitated. 'Haven't you?'

Harry snorted. 'Why should I? Dad's always loved me and taken care of me, at least since he's been out of prison, and my other dad gave his life to save me. What does it matter to me if they enjoyed snogging blokes?'

'I suppose I haven't a problem with it either, once you put it that way,' Draco replied after a moment, though he still seemed strangely transfixed by the photograph. He shook his head and put it face-down on the table. 'I mean, Dad saved my life, and he's treated me like his own son. You're right, this doesn't affect that at all.' He paused. 'I wonder if Mum knows. I mean, you'd think, on their honeymoon...'

Both boys shuddered at the thought of their parents in compromising positions, and then turned their attention at last back to the letter. Draco read it out loud.

_Dear Miss Black_, it began.

_As per our arrangement, I have been keeping a diligent eye out for any upcoming articles that might compromise your family's reputation or social standing in any way. I thought that this article might prove to be of some interest. Rita Skeeter is our star reporter, so I don't know how long I'll be able to sit on this. If you have any plans, I suggest you implement them as soon as possible._

_Yours sincerely,  
Longinus Wynde_

'Longinus Wynde?' Harry put his hand on his chin in a thoughtful pose. 'Isn't he the chief editor for the _Prophet_?'

'I think so,' Draco replied as he scanned the next pages. 'It looks like Skeeter's put an interesting spin on that photograph. She's making it out to look as though Dad betrayed your family to Riddle because he couldn't get over his rage that your father married your mother.'

'Let me see that,' Harry snapped, and took the parchment from Draco. '_HELL HATH NO FURY_?' he read in an incredulous tone. '_The Sordid Story Behind The Treachery of Sirius Black_?' He slammed the parchment down on the table. 'What a bitch!'

Draco smirked. 'No argument here. Don't worry though. Aunt Cassie will take care of her.'

Harry set his jaw and shook his head determinedly. 'I don't think so,' he said. 'I say we take care of this cow ourselves.'

Draco looked for a moment as though he was about to protest, but then a mischievous grin spread across his face.

'It has been a while since we managed any serious mischief,' he said. 'So how shall we go about this, O fearless leader?'

Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. 'The only way we know how, Draco. As Marauders, and as Blacks.'

* * *

On January 4th, Rita Skeeter woke up to the sound of loud pounding on the door of her flat. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 10:30 in the morning.

'What the devil?' she muttered as she crawled out of bed, throwing on a fluorescent green bathrobe on her way to the door. She wore curlers in her hair and a luridly-pink beauty mask prepared from powdered unicorn horn. 'Who could be calling at this ungodly hour?'

The pounding continued unabated until Rita finally undid the latch and opened the front door. There stood an old crone with a severe expression on her face. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, and thick black spectacles covered her grey eyes. She wore a simple black frock, and she glared down her aristocratic nose at Rita as though the latter was a bit of dung clinging to her well-polished yet sensible shoes.

'Have you any idea what time it is?' Rita snapped.

'Of course, I do, silly girl,' the witch drawled. 'It is half-past-ten, a time when only layabouts and good-for-nothings are still in bed.' She waltzed through the door, not waiting for an invitation. Rita thought she felt something brush against her leg, but she ignored it. The strange witch was strolling about the flat, surveying the disorder with disdain.

'I had rather thought you would be expecting a call from me,' she said. 'Clearly I was mistaken.'

'Excuse me,' Rita replied with indignation. 'Do I know you?'

The witch sniffed. 'And just how, pray tell, am I supposed to know the contents of your feeble mind? Was that an invitation for Legilimency?' The old witch looked almost eager at the idea.

Rita shook her head furiously. 'No, not at all,' she stammered. 'I was only wondering whether we'd ever met before.'

'Merlin, I hope not,' the witch replied. 'I do not ordinarily make it a point to associate directly with cockroaches such as yourself. However, one must place duty before pleasure, mustn't one?'

Rita paled. Was the witch implying that she knew...? Surely not! No one knew about Rita's secret. Or did they?

'Excuse me?' the witch snapped, waving her hand in front of Rita's face. 'Are you listening, girl? If not, I know rather a large number of painful yet legal curses that would teach you to pay attention to your betters.' She frowned. 'Or are you merely an imbecile?'

'No,' Rita said hastily, somewhat befuddled by the strange woman's behaviour. 'I was just lost in thought for a moment.'

'That doesn't sound difficult,' sniffed the witch. 'I don't suppose you have much practice.'

She strode past Rita into the living room and stopped in front of the sofa, drawing her wand from a holster hidden within the sleeve of her robe.

'_Scourgify_,' she muttered, then seated herself on the newly-cleaned cushion. She Conjured a tea set with a lovely floral print, and removed a small packet from her handbag, which she opened to reveal tea leaves, a small bottle of milk and a box of sugar cubes.

'One can never be too careful,' the witch observed. 'Particularly when one is visiting the lower classes. One can never be sure of the quality of what they may provide.'

She flicked her wand and Conjured a plush armchair.

'Please, have a seat, Miss Scooter,' she said.

'It's Skeeter,' Rita corrected her.

'I beg your pardon,' the witch said, not sounding at all apologetic. 'Sit down, Miss Skeeter.'

Rita felt somewhat uncomfortable at being invited to tea in her own home, but said nothing. Something about the woman's demeanour suggested that such comments would not be especially welcome. Rita found herself regretting that she had left her wand on her bedside table. That had been a terribly foolish decision in retrospect.

The tea was ready in moments. The witch poured a cup for herself and Rita, adding milk and two sugars to each. She pointedly did not ask Rita how she took her tea. The witch raised her cup to her lips and took a dainty sip before setting the cup back on its saucer.

'Miss Scooter, my name is Cassiopeia Black,' the witch said, finally introducing herself. 'I believe that you are currently writing an article that is of some interest to my family.'

On learning the name of her most unwelcome guest, Rita's blood went cold. She didn't even notice that the witch had deliberately mispronounced her name.

* * *

Whilst Rita Skeeter was being terrorised in the living room, Harry and Draco had sneaked into the reporter's home office under the Invisibility Cloak. The room was a chaotic mess, with files and papers stacked haphazardly all over. Draco groaned when he saw it.

'How the hell are we supposed to find anything in here?' he whispered irritably.

Harry shrugged. 'It doesn't look as though she's got much of a system,' he replied, walking over to the desk. 'Whatever she's working on at the moment is likely to be near the top.'

Draco muttered under his breath on his way to a large stack of papers that teetered precariously on the edge of a wobbly wooden stool that sat by the fireplace.

'If it turns out that she kept the file at the _Prophet_'s offices, I swear to Merlin, I'm going to hurt someone,' he said.

'Don't be stupid,' Harry retorted, not bothering to look up from the papers he was examining. 'She'd never leave anything so important in a place where anyone could find it. It's got to be here somewhere.'

Draco squatted down and rifled through the stack of papers on the stool. Finding nothing of particular relevance – though the compromising photographs of Minister Fudge _were_ interesting – he stood up, banging his head against the mantel. He swore colourfully.

'Keep it down,' Harry hissed. 'We don't want her to hear us.'

Draco glared at his brother, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. He thought it felt a bit moist.

'Cast a bloody Silencing Charm, you heartless bastard,' he snapped back. 'I'm bleeding over here.'

Harry raised his eyebrows and smirked, looking for an instant exactly like Sirius.

'Do you need Mummy to kiss it and make it all better?' he asked.

'Sod off,' Draco growled, and Harry chuckled. He did however cast a Silencing Charm before he went back to work.

Draco mumbled assorted vulgarities under his breath and leant forward to examine the spot where his head had hit the mantel. There was no blood on the wood, which was a relief, but Draco did notice something rather curious about the enormous photograph that hung above the fireplace. It showed Rita Skeeter being presented some prize or another, which held no especial interest for Draco, but it also seemed to be attached to the wall on one side by hinges. Draco cast a quick Diagnostic Charm, revealing a number of defensive spells, not all of which were legal.

'Aries, come over here,' he said.

'What is it?' Harry asked, looking up from a folder containing the first draft of an exposé on a smuggling ring with ties to Ludo Bagman that had been implicated in the illegal import of ingredients necessary for the production of Dark potions.

'It seems Skeeter's got a secret cupboard hidden behind this photograph,' Draco replied, indicating the hinges on the frame.

'Can you crack the protections?' Harry asked.

'Please,' Draco drawled. 'Rita Skeeter's got nothing on Cassiopeia Black, and we've been breaking into her rooms since we were eight.'

'Good point,' Harry conceded, and Draco set to work.

It proved to be more difficult a task than the boys had anticipated. Rita Skeeter had many powerful enemies, and she had evidently expected that some of them might try to steal her secrets. Still, Draco's confidence in his ward-cracking abilities had not been an idle boast, and he broke through after a short while. The photograph swung open to reveal a shelf, on which lay several large bundles of parchment.

Draco conducted a quick scan, which revealed no further protections, then picked up the stacks of parchment and leafed through them one by one. The first few he discarded as being of no relevance to their situation (though the information on Celestina Warbeck's particular predilections was interesting, to say the least), but at the fourth stack he looked over at his brother and gave a short nod.

'This is it,' he said.

Before Harry could respond, a loud crash sounded in the living room, followed presently by a shocking vulgarity that sounded most strange coming from Cassiopeia Black. Harry rolled his eyes.

'Aurors,' he mumbled. 'They've no sense of stealth.'

'Says the wizard who forgot to put up a Silencing Charm before he started snooping,' Draco replied with a smirk.

Harry stuck his tongue out at the blond boy, then gathered up a few bits of parchment he had found.

'I think these might prove useful,' he said, pressing them into Draco's arms. 'You take your Portkey and get back to the safe house. I've a present to leave Miss Skeeter before I go.'

Draco narrowed his eyes. 'What have you got in mind?' he asked.

'I'll tell you soon. Just go,' Harry urged. 'We can't afford to lose those papers.'

Draco nodded and reached into his left pocket, vanishing a moment later. Harry Conjured a stack of parchment to substitute for what they had taken, though the contents had been replaced with innocuous filler. He put it carefully in the cupboard over the fireplace, adding a few Dungbombs for good measure, then resealed the cupboard just as it had been before. Two flicks of his wand later, and the entire home office looked as though it had never been disturbed. Only one last task remained.

'_Accio Rita Skeeter's Wand_,' he commanded, and moments later the wand in question came flying into the study. Harry snatched it up and cast a few random spells with it, just powerful enough to cover up his and Draco's magical signatures. Then he snapped her wand over his knee and tossed the remnants in the fireplace, activating his Portkey just as he saw the bits of wood light up into flame.


	67. Part II: Chapter 38

**_Growing Up Black  
_**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just having a bit of fun with it.  
**

**A/N - Well, it's not quite a fortnight, but three weeks are much better than eight, right? I hope you enjoy this next chapter.  
**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 38

Harry appeared in the drawing room of number seventeen, Windermere Court, where Draco had already devoured nearly half the contents of a large silver tray that Mopsy had piled high with sandwiches.

'You could have waited for me,' Harry pointed out.

His brother shrugged. 'I wasn't sure exactly how long you'd take,' he said. 'And I was hungry. And Mopsy was most insistent.'

Harry chuckled as he helped himself to a sandwich of his own. 'I'm sure she was,' he replied. 'Is _she_ back yet?'

Draco shook his head. 'She should be here soon. I hope she didn't have any difficulties.'

'She's an Auror,' Harry pointed out. 'She ought to be able to take care of herself.'

Just then, they heard the front door open, then a loud crash, followed by an even louder oath.

Harry and Draco exchanged a grin, and the door of the drawing room flew open to reveal a frustrated Mopsy and a scowling young witch in strikingly-old-fashioned clothes standing in the foyer.

Draco laughed. 'You know, Dora, I think you look even more like Aunt Cassie now than you did at Rita Skeeter's flat.'

'Though if she heard you talk, she'd Scourgify your mouth,' Harry added. 'I don't think I've heard even Dad use precisely those words before.'

'Sod off,' Nymphadora Tonks snapped. She walked into the room and quickly shed her robes and hat, revealing the jeans and jumper she wore underneath. 'Have you any idea how bloody uncomfortable those things are?'

'Considering our upbringing, I daresay we do,' Draco said mildly.

Dora pursed her lips, then shrugged. 'Oh well. It's over anyway. How did I do? Do you think I pulled it off?'

'I doubt you'd fool anyone in the family,' Harry said judiciously. 'But I feel fairly certain that Miss Skeeter will be convinced.'

Draco sniggered. 'You mean "Miss Scooter".'

Dora cracked a half-smile. 'I will admit it was rather fun, though I could lose my job if anyone found out. The things I'll do for family!'

Harry smiled back. 'Not to mention keeping certain salacious photos of yourself and Charlie Weasley in the midst of practising some rather unorthodox Quidditch positions from finding their way to your mum's eyes.'

'Not to mention Mrs Weasley's,' Draco pointed out, his tongue firmly lodged in his cheek.

Dora's face fell. 'I still haven't any idea how you got hold of those pictures.'

Harry yawned. 'Never underestimate Fred and George Weasley. They gave us the pictures ages ago.'

Dora raised her eyebrows. 'Ages ago? You've been saving them all this time?'

Draco stared at his cousin in unbelief. 'Are you daft? Aries has been hoarding blackmail material since he was seven.'

'Aunt Cassie told me that it was never too soon to begin preparing for my ultimate rise to power,' Harry replied.

'I thought you'd decided not to become a Dark Lord,' Dora said suspiciously.

'That's rather a recent development,' Draco observed.

Dora sighed. 'Once again I understand why my mum left the family,' she said. 'So was this all the dirt you had on me, or should I be expecting more blackmail in future?'

Harry smirked. 'You'll find out next time we have need of your services.'

Dora's hair turned a mousy brown, and Draco patted her on the shoulder.

'Don't feel bad,' he said. 'Aries has loads of material on everyone in the family. Me most of all.'

Dora chuckled. 'And I'm sure you've got your fair share of shit on him.'

Draco shook his head sadly. 'I used to, but then I made the mistake of mentioning that I had a photograph of him prancing about his bedroom in nothing but his pants.'

'It took Mopsy an entire week to find your stash,' Harry growled. 'And then she practically had to Stun Dobby before he'd let her take it.'

'He slammed his ears in the oven for that one,' Draco reminded his brother. 'Don't you feel guilty?'

Harry shrugged. 'I wasn't the one who told him to do it.'

'You didn't!' Dora exclaimed, looking at Draco in shock.

'I really didn't,' Draco protested. 'Dobby punishes himself without even being told.'

'So do Roquefort and Mopsy,' Harry pointed out, 'but they don't slam their ears in oven doors.'

'Kreacher beats himself up with an iron poker,' Draco retorted.

'He was Grandmother's elf,' Harry replied, as though that explained everything, which, both Dora and Draco were forced to admit, it probably did. 'I'm surprised he doesn't suspend himself by his toenails over an open flame.' He sniffed. 'Granny always says that a bruised and bleeding elf does no good to her master at all.'

'How do Roquefort and Mopsy punish themselves?' Dora asked, her curiosity piqued, despite her not having quite forgotten her irritation at having been blackmailed into impersonating her great-aunt and perpetrating fraud on Wizarding Britain's best-known reporter.

'Roquefort usually polishes the flatware,' Harry said, 'though Granny thinks he's cheating a bit, since that's his favourite task. She doesn't mind, though, because her silver always sparkles. Mopsy's more creative.'

Draco smothered a laugh. 'Do you remember that time when she accidentally shrank Aunt Clytemnestra's knickers?'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I've no idea why Mopsy thought that re-hanging all the wallpaper in the house would be an appropriate punishment for that, but Uncle Marius was pleased enough with the result.' He stretched his arms and glanced at Dora. 'You can go now,' he said. 'We haven't anything else for you to do. Thank you ever so much for your help.'

The Metamorphmagus's hair turned bright red.

'What the hell?' she exclaimed. 'All that work, and you're not even going to tell me what that was all about?'

'No,' Harry replied calmly, shaking his head once. 'And it's best if you don't mention it to anyone. I'd hate to see you lose your job over something as silly as this.'

'You're not going to make me want to help you ever again, acting like that,' Dora grumbled.

'You didn't want to help us this time,' Harry reminded her.

'We gave you a chance to help us for family's sake and be treated as an equal in return,' Draco added. 'You chose not to take it.'

'If you'd like to be more involved next time,' Harry suggested, 'why don't you try going along with our plan without having to be blackmailed into it?'

Dora rolled her eyes. 'Fine,' she sighed. 'I suppose you've got a point there. But you will keep those pictures private, yeah?'

'My word is my bond,' Harry replied with a gracious bow.

Dora turned to leave, but hesitated at the door. She turned back around.

'I don't suppose,' she stammered, 'you could, er, give me the pictures.'

Harry and Draco said nothing, but rather started at her with incredulous expressions on their aristocratic faces.

'Right,' Dora said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. 'Stupid question. Bye then.'

Harry and Draco remained very solemn for a full minute after Dora left, then both burst into laughter.

'My lords, ladies and gentlemen,' Draco said through tears, 'behold a master at work.'

'It's too bad Aunt Cassie will never hear about it,' Harry replied, only somewhat in better control of his emotions than his brother. 'She'd be so very proud.'

When he'd calmed down, Draco plopped down on the sofa and addressed himself once again to the plate of sandwiches.

'Only you, Aries,' he said admiringly. 'Only you could blackmail an Auror with pictures that don't exist. How did you even find out about her little love affair? Fred and George?'

Harry sat down beside him and helped himself to a sandwich of his own.

'I'm an excellent guesser,' he said casually.

Draco choked, and Harry had to dislodge the bit of sandwich with a well-timed spell.

'Thanks,' Draco muttered hoarsely, and took a few deep breaths. 'You were _guessing_? How the hell did you manage to pull that off?'

Harry smirked, and took a large bite of his sandwich.

'Skill, dear Draco. Unsurpassed skill.'

* * *

After lunch – they happily polished off a second tray of sandwiches, and then savoured some lovely strawberry tarts – Harry and Draco took their captured documents upstairs to Uncle Marius's old study. (Technically the study belonged to Harry, since he was now master of number seventeen, Windermere Court, but he hadn't felt right about claiming it just yet.)

James Potter and Phineas Black _fils_ were playing bezique in a large portrait that hung over the mantel, but they were quiet enough, and quite absorbed in their game, so Harry and Draco ignored them. Harry lay the heavy stack of parchment they'd acquired on the desk, and removed the twine.

'She seems to have a lot of documentation for her story,' Draco observed, taking one half of the stack and flipping idly through it.

Harry furrowed his brow. 'But where did she get it?' he wondered aloud, taking his time going over his half. 'Photographs, firsthand descriptions of private events that happened before we were born...MERLIN'S EFFING BOLLOCKS!' He dropped the photograph he'd been examining onto the desk.

'What is it, Aries?' Draco asked, and snatched up the picture. He let out a long, deep whistle. 'Damn,' he muttered. 'Aries, I think this might possibly qualify as pornographic.'

'Oh, let me see!' came James's voice from the portrait. The promise of titillation had evidently been what was necessary to distract him from his cards, and he came bounding over to the lovely green landscape that hung beside the desk. Phineas sniffed disapprovingly, but followed along after his great-great-grand-nephew, if at a more leisurely pace.

'I don't think you want to see this, Uncle James,' Draco said, holding the picture back.

'Show him, Draco,' Harry said in a funny voice. 'Maybe he can explain to us what the hell is going on.'

Draco hesitated, but after a bit more prodding from James, and even a 'go on, boy, we might as well see it' from Phineas, he held it up.

'Bloody hell,' James whispered when he saw the picture, his face turning bright red.

'By George!' Phineas exclaimed, looking very intrigued. 'Is that even legal?'

'Care to explain?' Harry asked, looking his birth father squarely in the eye.

'You know, Aries, er, Harry, er, Aries,' James stammered. 'I really don't know where that came from.'

'It's all right, Uncle James,' Draco reassured him. 'Aries and I don't mind that you like to snog blokes.' He shot a glance at the photo. 'Though that, er, makes it look like you enjoyed a bit more than snogging.'

'But I don't!' James protested. 'I don't like snogging blokes!'

Harry frowned. 'So was all this just an experiment then?' he asked. 'A bit of fun between friends?' His eyes narrowed. 'Besides, you look older in that photograph. About the same age you are now. Were you cheating on my mum with Dad?' He winced. 'I mean, er, with Sirius.'

James shook his head firmly. 'You don't understand,' he said. 'I've no memory of that ever happening.'

Draco raised his eyebrows. 'So you didn't snog Dad?'

'No,' James replied, then backtracked. 'Sorry, there was that one time – or was it two times? – but that was it.'

'Explain,' Harry demanded coolly.

'Well, we were twelve,' James began. 'Neither of us had ever kissed anyone before, and Sirius thought we ought to have some practice before we tried kissing girls, so we had a go at it one summer in my parents' garden. I didn't much care for it, to be honest, so we didn't do it again.'

'And the other time?' Draco asked.

James shrugged. 'That one was just a prank by Moony and Wormtail. They slipped something into Padfoot's tea, made him act funny.'

'So none of this is real?' Harry asked.

'That's right,' James replied.

'You mean we went through all of this for nothing?' Draco exclaimed.

'Not nothing,' Harry reminded him. 'We've kept Rita Skeeter from publishing all this rubbish in the _Prophet_.'

James gave Phineas a concerned look when he heard this, and his great-uncle nodded gravely, but neither of the boys were paying any attention to the portraits at the time.

Just then the grandfather clock began to chime, and Draco gasped.

'We need to get back to France now, Aries,' he said. 'We're already going to be late.'

Harry scowled as he began collecting all of Rita's papers.

'We can't take them with us,' Draco protested. 'If anyone is in the room when we appear, they'll want to see them.'

'Then what are we going to do with them?' Harry snapped.

'Leave them here,' James suggested. 'You can order Mopsy not to let anyone except you through the door of the study. That way, the papers will be safe.'

'Good idea,' Harry replied, and promptly summoned Mopsy, giving her the exact orders James had suggested. A moment later, the boys activated their Portkey and disappeared. Mopsy followed soon after, leaving the portraits in solitude.

'That was quite crafty, James,' Phineas observed. 'I'm surprised they fell for it.'

James chuckled. 'They're very bright boys, but they are only thirteen.'

'Shall I to France?' Phineas asked.

'There's no rush,' James replied. 'Wait until we can be sure the boys have gone to bed. There's no need to let them know what we're up to.'

Phineas agreed, and the two wizards returned to their cards.

* * *

Later that evening, Sirius and Narcissa retired to their private apartments after dinner. The Amber Suite was a magnificent set of rooms, added to the chateau when the Black family had resided there during the Rebellion, when Cromwell's tyranny made things rather uncomfortable for witches and wizards. The walls and ceiling were fashioned entirely of elaborately-wrought amber, and the floors were of marble, covered with thick Persian rugs. The furnishings were of African ivory and Arabian gold, and topped with well-stuffed silk cushions. Most importantly, the rooms provided everything a wealthy pureblood wizard might require. The door from the corridor led into a large sitting room, within which an enchanted harpsichord and string quartet played whatever music most suited the mood of the occupants. (Since the occupants mightn't always agree, the charms naturally deferred to the wishes of the highest-ranking persons there, according to the laws of Wizarding etiquette in force in seventeenth-century France.)

One of the doors from the sitting room led into a well-stocked private library containing numerous rare and unique manuscripts, including an original copy of the ancient Egyptian _Book of Thoth_, an ancient piece of parchment containing the original directions for the Cruciatus Curse and supposedly written by Merlin himself, and, most notably, the sealed copy of the Black family grimoire, which had been originally penned by Betelgeuse the Black, and to which every family head since then had contributed at least one new spell. (Sirius's grandfather had added over three hundred spells. Sirius's own contribution had been the three Forgivables.)

Another door from the sitting room led into an extensive potions storeroom, the contents of which – should any Aurors happen to see – would probably be enough to get every Black family member sent to Azkaban for several lifetimes. It was for this reason that successive heads of the Black family had layered heavy curses and difficult enchantments on every room in the Amber Suite. Only members of the Black family and their guests could enter the sitting room, and only the head of the house, his spouse and his heir could enter the library and potions storeroom. House elves, naturally, had unfettered access to the Amber Suite, but only in the context of fulfilling some order they had been given by their master.

The third door from the sitting room led to a small corridor with two doors, each of which led to a dressing room, from which one could access a bedroom, bathroom and study. One of these was for the use of the mistress of the house, and the other was for its master. Only the head of the house of Black could set foot in his private rooms, whilst both he and his wife had free access to her rooms. Finally, a secret passage in the master bedroom led directly to a private townhouse in Paris, the existence of which was a closely-guarded secret passed from father to son. Many Black men had been known to use the house for nocturnal trysts and other illicit engagements.

On this evening, however, no such fun was scheduled, and Sirius and Narcissa treated themselves to a nightcap in their sitting room. After a few moments of light chitchat, Sirius drained his firewhisky and rose to his feet.

'It's been a lovely evening, but I'm afraid I shall have to turn in,' Sirius said. 'That roast is sitting rather heavily this evening.'

'You did have three helpings,' Narcissa pointed out.

'What can I say?' Sirius replied, flashing his wife his most winning grin. 'Granny is an excellent cook.'

'She is that,' Narcissa agreed. 'I'll be going to bed myself soon. I think I should like to read a bit first.'

'Are you enjoying the book I gave you for Christmas?'

'Very much,' Narcissa said. 'I still can't believe that you've read more Hyacinth Price novels than I have.'

Sirius smirked. '_I_ can't believe that you'd never read _Writ of Witchery_. It's by far her best.'

'I don't know whether I should go quite that far,' Narcissa replied. 'I'm very fond of _Queen of Swords_.'

'That is a good one,' Sirius conceded. 'But you'll have to tell me what you think once you've finished _Writ of Witchery_. Speaking of which, I'll detain you no further. Good night, Cissy.'

'Good night, Sirius.'

Sirius gave his wife a goodnight peck on the cheek, then made his way into his suite, where he promptly began to disrobe. He stripped off his robes and tossed them over a chair, then pulled off his trousers and shirt. He was about to take off his pants as well when he was interrupted by a loud cough. Sirius froze.

'Sweet Merlin, not more of that!' came an irate voice.

Sirius whipped around to find his Great-Uncle Phineas sitting astride a large horse.

'Uncle Phineas!' he exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?'

'For heaven's sake, Sirius, put a shirt on,' his uncle replied. 'I've seen more than enough of your body hair for one day.'

Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied with his uncle's request.

'There,' he said. 'Now, tell me what the problem is.'

Phineas cocked an eyebrow. 'Whatever made you think there was a problem?' he asked.

'You wouldn't have come here if everything was all right back home,' Sirius said.

Phineas shrugged, unable to argue with his great-nephew's infallible logic. 'The Potter boy sent me,' he explained. 'He says, and I quote, "We've got detention on the full moon."' He sniffed disdainfully. 'If you can make anything out of that rubbish. I certainly cannot.'

Sirius's eyes went wide as he recognised the code from their days at Hogwarts. 'Shit!' he exclaimed. 'I've to get back there at once.'

'Indeed,' Phineas drawled. 'Though I am certain you've enough time to get properly dressed first.'


	68. Part II: Chapter 39

**_Growing Up Black  
_**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just having a bit of fun with it.**

**A/N - Here we go. It's a bit short, and a bit late, for which I apologise, but there you have it. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Your kind words truly keep me going.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 39

A million thoughts raced through Sirius's mind as he prepared the Portkey and returned to number seventeen, Windermere Court. In school, 'detention on the full moon' had always been the boys' code for 'things are seriously fucked up'. (So much so, in fact, that they had needed to invent other ways of letting one another know when they actually did have detention on the full moon. 'Litter duty' had always been Sirius's favourite.) After school, during the war, Sirius and James had found the old phrase quite useful for describing the stickiest of the many sticky situations in which they habitually found themselves whilst on Order business. That James had used it in his summons now could only mean something monumentally bad. But what? The family were all safe, so far as Sirius knew, and the Horcruxes had nearly all been destroyed. What could possibly be so urgent that James's portrait had felt compelled to send for Sirius right away, something so dire that it couldn't wait a couple of days until they were scheduled to return to England?

Sirius wondered whether this might not be some prank James's portrait had decided to play. Such a thing would hardly be out of character for the painting's subject, and the family generally agreed that the artist had ever so slightly exaggerated James's mischievousness. This option seemed more and more likely the more Sirius considered it, and by the time he had appeared in the drawing room, he was nearly convinced of it.

'If it does turn out to be a joke, I swear to Merlin I'll hex his canvas blank,' Sirius muttered on his way up the stairs, though the sad smile on his lips betrayed the fact that, deep down, Sirius would very much have liked to be the victim of one of his late friend's pranks again.

'There you are, Padfoot!' James's portrait exclaimed when Sirius reached the third floor landing. 'Thank God you've come. I'm sorry to pull you away from your holiday, but I really didn't think you'd want to let this wait.'

Sirius knew as soon as he saw James's furrowed brow that this was no joke. James was honestly worried about something.

'What's the matter, Prongs?' he asked.

'Best for you to see for yourself,' James replied. 'It's all in the study, though you can't go in the usual way – Harry ordered Mopsy to keep anyone but him and Draco from going through the door.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow quizzically. 'The door specifically? Why didn't he just forbid anyone to enter the room, full stop? There's a secret passage behind the suit of armour. He and Draco both know about that one, I'm sure of it.'

James smirked. 'Well, they _may_ have been a bit preoccupied at the time, and I _might_ have suggested specifically that they have Mopsy keep people away from the door.'

Sirius grinned at his best friend's cleverness, but his grin turned quickly into a scowl when he realised the full import of what James had said.

'Harry was here?' he repeated. 'When was this?'

'Earlier today,' drawled Phineas, who had just stepped into a busy mediaeval torture chamber that hung on the wall across from where James was standing. 'He and Draco had just returned from some escapade with Rita Skeeter.'

'RITA SKEETER?' Sirius shouted. 'That cow? What in the name of Hufflepuff were those idiot boys thinking?'

'One thing at a time, Padfoot,' James said in an unusually-subdued tone. 'You'll understand more once you see the pictures.'

'Pictures?' Sirius repeated, but neither James nor Phineas would tell him anything else, so Sirius was compelled to make his way to the master bedroom, where lay the entrance to the secret passageway into Marius's study. Sirius let himself into the bedroom and pressed gently against the panelled wood to the left of the fireplace. The panel slid open easily, revealing a long, dark stairwell – and a rather irritated house elf.

'What is Master Sirius wanting with the secret passageway to Master's study?' she demanded.

'I should think that would be obvious, Mopsy,' Sirius replied. 'I need something from there.'

'That study is belonging to Mopsy's Master, and he is not wanting anyone else to be snooping around there.'

Sirius frowned. 'Is that so?'

Mopsy nodded vigorously. 'Master is telling Mopsy not to let anyone through the door of Master's study.'

Sirius gestured irritably at the secret passage. 'Does this look like the door to you?'

The old elf narrowed her eyes. 'Mopsy has been raising too many generations of naughty Black boys to fall for Master Sirius's little tricks – begging Master Sirius's pardon, of course,' she said. 'Mopsy is understanding what her Master was meaning, and she is careful to be closing all the loopholes.' She straightened her back and stretched to her full height. Even so, she only came up to Sirius's thigh. 'Mopsy is a good elf.'

Sirius sighed. 'She is that. Too good sometimes.' He wandered over and sat down on the bed, holding his head in his hands. In an instant, Mopsy's expression shifted from one of severity to one of concern, and she wandered over to the bed.

'Is something bothering Master Sirius?' she asked.

Sirius took a deep breath. 'Yes, Mopsy. I need something in the study. It's very important, both to me and to the entire family, including your Master Aries. But if I can't get in, how am I supposed to deal with it?'

Mopsy frowned. 'Couldn't you be asking Mopsy's Master to fetch it for you?'

Sirius began to answer, then stopped himself, an idea forming in his mind. He instead shook his head sadly.

'You see, Mopsy,' he began, 'Master Aries was doing something he shouldn't have been doing. He and Master Draco came to England from France without my permission. Now, ordinarily I'd overlook it, because I'm sure they had a good reason, but if I was to tell them that I know, then I'd be obliged to punish them.'

Mopsy's eyes went wide. 'Punish Mopsy's Master?' she whispered, the very idea visibly filling her with horror. 'No! Punish Mopsy instead! Mopsy is the one not letting you into the study!'

Sirius shook his head again. 'But, Mopsy, you've done nothing wrong. Your Master told you not to let anyone into the study, and you're carrying out his orders. You're a very good elf.' He sighed melodramatically. 'And Master Aries is a good boy. But he oughtn't to have gone anywhere without his father's permission.'

Mopsy nodded pensively, but said nothing.

'Now, I'd love to let it go,' Sirius went on. 'But I desperately need what's in that study, and if I have to tell Aries, then I'll have to punish him. You wouldn't want me to undermine discipline, would you?'

'No, Master,' Mopsy said adamantly. 'Mopsy believes in following orders.'

'Then we're stuck,' Sirius said sadly. 'I'll have to punish Aries. If only there was some other way for me to get what I need.' He stood up and walked to the door. Mopsy Apparated into his path.

'Wait, Master Sirius,' she pleaded. 'Mopsy has another idea! Mopsy can fetch what Master needs for him! Mopsy's Master said nothing about her bringing anything _out_ of the study!'

Sirius smiled. 'Well done, Mopsy!' he said, and the elf beamed with pride. 'Go into the study and ask Master James's portrait to tell you what to bring. I shall await him and you in the library.'

Mopsy bowed and vanished with a loud pop and a look of proud satisfaction. Sirius chuckled softly and made his way to the library. When he reached it, James's portrait was already lounging on top of an enormous blood-stained Aztec altar, much to the dismay of both priest and victim, neither of whom was quite certain what to do with the pale-faced wizard who had so rudely interrupted their sacred rites. A stack of parchment was sitting on the desk, and Mopsy was setting a tea tray on a side table.

'Will Master Sirius be needing anything else?' she asked meekly.

'No, thank you, Mopsy,' Sirius replied. 'You may go now. Be sure not to mention any of this to anyone, especially Master Aries. I should hate to have to punish him if he finds out.'

Mopsy nodded eagerly, then vanished.

James took a bite from a large, red apple. 'I have to say, Padfoot, Mopsy is much cleverer than I gave her credit for. I felt certain she'd let you through the secret passage.'

Sirius smirked. 'I found a way around it, didn't I?'

'You did,' James agreed, hoisting his apple in a salute to his old comrade. 'Now let's see how you apply that ever-so-brilliant Black brain of yours to this mess.' He jerked a thumb at the pile of papers. 'You probably want to sit down. It's really something.'

Sirius gave James an inquisitive look, but sat down at the desk and began leafing through the stack of parchment. He said nothing as he read through it, but grew increasingly pale with each item. Eventually he saw something that made him turn beet-red, and James knew that he had come across the naughty photos.

'I'm curious to see how that one happened myself,' James said cheekily.

Sirius made an obscene hand gesture, but he kept his eyes fixed on the desk, and he was still very red.

James chuckled at first at the insult, but Sirius did not seem to relax.

'Padfoot, mate?' James said hesitantly. 'Are you all right?'

Sirius went a long while without answering. At length he said, 'You know it's not true, right? I didn't sell you out to Voldemort, and I never would.' His breath hitched. 'I never could.'

'I know that,' James replied quietly.

'I was happy for you, really,' Sirius went on. 'It's just….'

'I know,' James repeated. 'I'm sorry.'

Sirius sniffed. 'And as for these bloody things,' he said, waving the shocking pictures, 'I've no idea where the hell Rita Skeeter got a hold of them.'

James couldn't resist asking. 'So, what was it? Polyjuice? A Metamorphmagus?'

Sirius turned crimson at that. He coughed. 'Dreams.'

James pouted. 'Is that all? I'd hoped it was something more interesting.' He took a large bite of his apple.

Sirius coughed again. 'Waking Dreams.'

James began to choke, and Eglantine Melliflua's portrait had to Summon the apple chunk before he could breathe freely again.

'Waking Dreams?' he gasped.

Sirius nodded stiffly.

'Two questions, then,' James said. 'Where the hell did you get the potion, and why the hell didn't you share it with me?'

Sirius gave him a half-grin. His colour was slowly returning to normal, but James could still see that he was mortally embarrassed.

'The answer to the first question is easy enough,' he said. 'I nicked some from that Death Eater we caught in Yorkshire.'

'And why didn't you share it with me?' James asked indignantly. 'I nearly lost an eye to that bastard.'

'I planned on it, really,' Sirius said. His cheeks began to redden again. 'But, er, I had a really bad day, and I was lonely, and….'

'It's all right, Padfoot,' James said gently.

Sirius jumped to his feet, picked up the antique chair on which he'd been sitting and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into a dozen pieces. Most of the portraits in the room, including the Aztec priest and his victim, went scurrying, though Eglantine Melliflua perched herself on the edge of a chaise longue, watching the boys with fascination and popping caramels into her mouth. Being a portrait can get rather boring after all, and so much the more so when one is hanging in a library.

'No, it isn't bloody all right, James!' Sirius snapped. 'Because someone saw it, and gave that memory to Rita Skeeter, and what do you think she's going to do with it?' His anger was like a tidal wave, rolling over everything in its path without a break. 'The boys may have hampered her a bit, but she's a persistent bitch. She'll still find a way to put out her article, and this rubbish will be all over everyone's newspapers. The Wizengamot might even want to investigate. They'll say I'm an unfit parent. They might even try to annul my marriage to Cissy, and where would that leave her and Draco?'

'You don't know that,' James tried to break in, but it was no use.

'And you know what the worst part of it all is?' Sirius continued. 'The worst part is that I can't even really have this all out with you, because _you're effing dead_!' He slammed his fists hard on the table, and then dissolved into violent sobs.

'He knew, though,' James said quietly, slipping off the altar onto the temple floor.

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, then shut it just as abruptly. 'He? What do you mean?'

'James Potter,' James replied. 'The real one. He knew. He knew everything.' He gestured at the pictures. 'Well, not about the Waking Dreams, but everything else. It didn't matter to him, and I think I know better than anyone, seeing as I'm him, or, well, something.' He took a deep breath. 'He was only bothered that you were so eaten up over it. Still are, by the looks of things.'

'Wasn't his fault,' Sirius muttered. 'Your fault.'

'I suppose I'm trying to say that…if things had been different…,' James went on. 'If he ever had fancied a bloke, then, well, you know….'

'Yeah, I do,' Sirius said, and sighed. 'Cheers, Prongs.'

'Any time, Padfoot,' James replied. An awkward quiet hung over the room as Sirius shifted his weight from foot to foot and James drummed his fingers against the stone surface of the altar.

At last James broke the silence. 'Merlin, I need a fag,' he said.

Sirius snorted. 'So do I, now that you mention it.' He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his trousers and lit one up. 'And since nobody's here to complain if I do, I might as well indulge.'

'That's just like you, Padfoot,' James said with a scowl, 'to rub in the fact that you're alive and able to indulge in such things whilst I am not.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'You giant arse,' he retorted. 'I can't believe you don't remember the second part of my wedding present to you.'

James stared at him blankly for a moment, and then comprehension dawned on his face. He slipped a hand inside his wedding robes and retrieved a platinum cigarette case.

'I can't believe I forgot it either!' he exclaimed. 'This was the best present ever. Lily never even figured out where I had stashed it. Cheers, Padfoot.' He lit up his own cigarette and leant back against a statue. He cast a speculative glance at Sirius's backside. 'And whilst we're speaking of ginormous arses…,' he began.

'Shut up,' Sirius snapped, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and James grinned. Sirius let out a short bark, and grinned back. He took a long drag on his cigarette, then began to pace back and forth.

'There's got to be some way for us to figure out who's behind this,' he muttered.

James raised an eyebrow. 'I thought we knew already,' he said. 'It's that Skeeter bitch.'

Sirius shook his head. 'Someone else is using her.'

'How can you be so sure?' James asked.

'In the first place, she hasn't any motive,' Sirius replied.

'What about breaking a big story?'

Sirius frowned. 'I really don't think so. Of course she'd print it once it was practically laid in her lap, but I can't imagine her going digging for this sort of thing, not when she didn't even have a clue that any of it existed, and certainly not when I've got the money and the power to make her life a living hell.'

'A valid point,' James observed. 'So who then?'

'Don't know,' Sirius mumbled. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, then pulled over an unbroken chair and sat down at the desk. He began flipping through the papers methodically, sorting them into separate piles. James simply crossed his arms and watched, knowing better than to interfere in his best friend's process. Sirius scrutinised each piece of parchment carefully, looking for any slight clue that might indicate where Skeeter had got her information. He winced at some things, chuckled at others and frowned at yet others. At length, however, he came upon something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

'That bastard,' he growled. 'I should have known it was him. He did it before.'

James raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'

Sirius held up a piece of parchment for James's inspection. 'Does this handwriting look at all familiar to you?' he asked.

It did. Quite familiar.

'I'll be buggered,' James swore.

'Quite,' Sirius agreed.

'Are you sure?' James asked.

'Check out the signature at the bottom,' Sirius pointed out.

James gasped. There, in neat handwriting that James had seen so many times before, was the damning proof.

_Of course it pains me to write this, Headmaster, as I've always considered Sirius one of my closest friends, and I'd never wish to betray his confidence. But, under the circumstances, I think it only right that you should know why I suspect Sirius of being the spy, and why I think it best that he be kept apart from any sensitive Order matters. I've tried talking to James, but of course he refuses to listen. Perhaps you can make him see reason._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Remus J. Lupin_


	69. Part II: Chapter 40

**_Growing Up Black_**

**Disclaimer - As much as I should love to be the author and creator of the Harry Potter universe, I am not. I am only playing around with it a bit and sharing it with like-minded individuals for their private amusement. And so on and so forth...**

**A/N - My dear readers, I have returned! I apologise for my absence over this past year. Things in the real world are a bit more settled now, and I hope that I shall be able to return to regular updates.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Daddybearpa, without whose kind assistance I should never have been able to come back to writing.**

**Now for the next installment...**

* * *

Chapter 40

Later that night, in one of the opulent guest rooms of the Chateau Noir, Remus Lupin lay sleeping in his bed. His rest was sounder than usual – the moon, in her kindness, was continuing to wane – and it came as a total shock when his sixteenth-century four-poster bed levitated several feet off the floor, flipped over and dumped him onto the thick Persian carpet below.

'What the devil?' Remus muttered groggily. He reached out from beneath the mess of blankets and pillows and searched for his wand, but, just when he thought he could feel it with the tips of his fingers, a heavy boot came down on top of his wrist, pinning his arm to the floor.

'Hold it right there, Moony,' Sirius said in a low growl. 'You've got a bit of explaining to do.'

'Sirius?' Remus struggled one-handed with the sheets and finally freed himself from his prison of bedclothes. 'What the hell is going on here? Get off my bloody hand!'

Sirius obligingly removed his foot, but Summoned Remus's wand before he could grab it. Remus scrambled to his feet and stood face to face with his friend. Sirius had a few inches and several stone on Remus, but Remus had the wolf, lulled though it might be in its current stupor. His eyes flashed with anger, and Sirius took one short step backwards.

'That's enough, Sirius,' Remus snapped. 'What's the meaning of this? Attacking me without provocation? In the middle of the night? When I'm a guest in your home? What in Merlin's name has got into you?'

Sirius hesitated, and for a moment Remus thought he looked vaguely sheepish, but then his face hardened once more and his lip curled. His eyes burnt with cold fire, and suddenly Remus felt that the night was not going to end well.

'Into me?' Sirius repeated. 'Into me? I'd rather talk about what's got into you, _old friend._'

Remus frowned at his inflection. 'I haven't a clue what it is you're going on about,' he said.

'Haven't you?' Sirius snarled. He reached into his robes and withdrew a sheaf of old parchment. 'Read this,' he said, thrusting the pages into Remus's hands, 'and then explain to me just how it came into the possession of Rita Skeeter.'

Remus looked over the parchment carefully, wincing as he realised what it was.

'Er, it looks as though Dumbledore's not decided to go quietly,' he said with a half-hearted chuckle. 'Though don't you think it's rather flattering that he couldn't think of anyone better to go to than some muckraking journalist?'

'Don't feed me that rubbish,' Sirius said, his anger not at all assuaged by Remus's feeble humour. 'There are letters there written in your handwriting, over your signature. Back in England I've got a bottle of your memories, and you're a damn fool if you think I don't remember who took those bloody photographs back in school.' He snatched the papers from Remus's hands and flipped through them, before holding up a rather detailed photograph that made Remus blush.

'Though I must say, Moony,' Sirius drawled. 'I was surprised to see this one. Were you _spying_ on me, Remus Lupin?'

Remus coughed. 'Er, that was Peter,' he said. 'He found you like that the night after James and Lily's wedding. Was it Polyjuice?'

'Waking Dreams,' Sirius mumbled in return.

Remus's eyes widened. 'Impressive,' he said. 'In any event, Peter kept the pictures for a while. He didn't show me until later.' He bit his lower lip. 'I'm sorry, Padfoot. He made a very convincing case, and you remember how it was back then, none of us trusting each other.'

'I do,' Sirius said quietly, letting out a deep breath. Without warning he raised his wand and fired a Reductor curse at the large vase in one corner of the room. 'Dash it all, Moony!' he exclaimed. 'How long is that bloody rat going to keep turning us against each other?'

He collapsed into the mahogany armchair that stood by the fireplace before sullenly handing Remus his wand, which the latter discreetly used to cast a Mending Charm on the unfortunate vase.

'Sorry,' Sirius whispered. Even with his lycanthropy-enhanced hearing, Remus could barely make it out. But it was there nonetheless.

'I'm sorry too,' Remus said. 'For back then and for now. I ought to have told you what I'd given to Dumbledore, at least once I realised he wasn't on our side. To be honest, I never really thought about it. It was a long time ago.'

'It feels like yesterday to me,' Sirius replied. 'I relived that night over and over in Azkaban, and even now I see it in my dreams sometimes. And what I can't really escape, no matter how hard I try, is that it was all my fault.'

He sat there and wept, and suddenly things were clear to Remus in a way they hadn't been before.

'You actually loved him, didn't you,' he said. 'James, I mean.'

Sirius snorted through large tears. 'Of course I did, you prat. Didn't you?'

'I did,' Remus nodded, 'as a friend. But for you it was more.' He waved at the photographs. 'I mean, I've known about that part of it for years, but I never thought it meant much. We were adolescent boys, after all. I don't think I understood until just now that you were really in love with him.'

Sirius said nothing, but looked at his friend with forlornness in his large grey eyes, much, Remus thought with morbid humour, as a puppy might upon losing his master.

'Oh, Padfoot,' Remus said with a sigh. He rang the kitchen for some tea and biscuits, which Roquefort brought up within a couple of minutes, then Conjured a chair and a couple of warm blankets before sitting next to Sirius. They said nothing more that night, but sat up until morning, sipping tea and staring into the crackling fire.

* * *

Harry and Draco had planned on sneaking back to London the next day in order to dispose of the papers they'd liberated from Rita Skeeter's secret vault, but they never had a chance. Narcissa woke them early and made them finish all their homework, whilst after lunch Remus took them out into the woods behind the chateau and ran through a series of intense drills. Harry and Draco duelled until dinner, and afterwards they were far too exhausted even to contemplate sneaking off.

It was the same the next day, and the next. A Potions tutorial with Cassiopeia in the morning, followed by Transfiguration or more Defence drills with Remus, and then Quidditch practice with Abraxas in the afternoon – the adults were running them ragged. When they did wind up with a spare moment one afternoon after Abraxas had crushed them in a one-on-two match – _damn that Elixir!_ Harry thought – Roquefort appeared to inform them that Granny Black had requested that the two of them oversee the preparation of dinner that evening.

'It's just wrong, Aries,' Draco complained whilst he set the apples chopping for the tarte Tatin. 'I think I'm actually looking forward to school so I shan't have to work so hard. It's almost as though they've been conspiring to keep us out of trouble.'

Harry looked up from the stroganoff, his brow furrowed deeply. 'I think that's exactly what they're doing,' he said. 'Do you suppose they've found out about our little excursion?'

Draco frowned. 'That makes a distressing amount of sense. Who do you think told them? Dora?'

Harry shook his head. 'She'd get in far more trouble than us. Perhaps one of the portraits?'

The apples were ready, so Draco poured in the caramel sauce.

'Do you think it might have something to do with Dad's being ill?' he asked. 'He's not been at dinner lately.'

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Clytemnestra appeared at the door to let them know that dinner would be served fifteen minutes earlier than usual, and the boys had no more time for chatter as they rushed to complete the meal to Granny's exacting standards.

That evening Sirius was in fact present at dinner – which Granny pronounced 'not bad' – though he only picked at his food, didn't speak much and wouldn't look either of the boys in the eye. He excused himself just before dessert, which had always been his favourite course. It was clear to both Harry and Draco that something was seriously wrong, but they had no opportunity to investigate the matter, inasmuch as Cassiopeia announced that they would be joining her for an Astronomy tutorial that same night.

* * *

Whether by chance or design, the boys had no other opportunities to visit the house at Windermere Court that holiday before returning to Hogwarts. Sirius and Remus left a day early in order to prepare their lessons, so Narcissa Portkeyed Harry and Draco to number 12, Grimmauld Place after breakfast the day they were to catch the Hogwarts Express. (Harry saw further evidence in this of some grown-up plot to keep him from Windermere Court, but Draco very reasonably pointed out that the house on Grimmauld Place stood nearer to King's Cross Station.)

Narcissa bade the boys farewell at the house, whilst Abraxas, who was still relishing his renewed youth, drove them to the station in his recently-acquired Ferrari. When they had left the car in the car park – suitably protected under a thick layer of Muggle-repelling charms – and were heading for the station, they noticed Dean Thomas on the other side of Pancras St.

'Hello Aries, Draco!' Dean called out. Harry and Draco waved back, and walked towards him. Their friend was decked out in fine new clothes and rolling an expensive trunk alongside him. 'How was the rest of your holiday?' he asked.

'Uneventful,' Harry said casually, very mindful of Abraxas walking up behind them. 'We worked on our homework a bit, played some Quidditch.'

Dean noticed Abraxas as well. His smile dropped, he stood up straight and he began fidgeting with his tie.

'Hello, Achilles,' he said. 'Thanks again for all your help at Gringotts.'

Abraxas responded with a gracious bow. 'It was my very great pleasure, Dean,' he said.

Dean looked hesitantly over Abraxas's shoulder. 'Is, er, Ceres with you?'

Draco laughed. 'Oh no,' he said. 'She had errands to take care of today.'

Dean visibly exhaled, and Harry and Abraxas both joined in Draco's laughter.

'Go on and laugh then,' Dean snapped. 'You lot might be used to her and all, but she's a fright!'

'Believe me,' Harry said. 'We know.'

Abraxas raised an eyebrow and smirked. 'I'm sure that she'll enjoy hearing that you think so, Aries.'

'I doubt it,' Draco interjected. 'Because none of us here is going to share that bit of information with her. Isn't that right, _Achilles_?' He laid particular stress on Abraxas's alias and gave his grandfather a pointed look. The youthful old man looked properly abashed.

'Oh my, look at the time,' he exclaimed, though his customary pocket watch was still securely pocketed. 'You boys had better get going. You don't want to miss the train.'

Harry and Draco exchanged a look and suppressed a snigger, but did as their grandfather had instructed. Dean followed suit, and within ten minutes, all three boys were securely situated in their compartment, poring over the Marauder's Map and planning pranks for the upcoming term.

* * *

Even the best-planned schemes can be brought to naught by a sudden change in circumstances, and Harry knew within minutes of entering the Great Hall upon their arrival at Hogwarts that just such a change was underfoot. It hadn't anything to do with Hermione Granger's strange decision to sit directly across from Draco, though they had never been particular friends. It had nothing to do with the decidedly-unladylike oaths Astoria Greengrass was muttering beneath her breath at the Slytherin table. For that matter, it was completely independent of the sullen expression worn by Sirius, and likewise the concerned and somewhat-exasperated expression worn by Remus. In fact, Harry, who ordinarily would have made careful note of all these occurrences, barely noticed any of them at all. His mind, you see, was occupied instead by a most curious phenomenon.

Hogwarts was talking to him.

And the school's native language appeared to be Parseltongue.

_Hello, Mr Potter_, the school whispered in a low hiss, which nonetheless reverberated loudly in Harry's mind.

Harry dared not respond, knowing all too well that to start hissing in the middle of the Great Hall would serve only to create a scene, but Hogwarts did not seem to take well to being ignored.

_Are you even listening to me, Mr Potter?_ it demanded. _What a naughty boy you are. Pupils ought to pay attention in school._

Harry gritted his teeth and focussed on his dinner, though he could barely taste any of the dishes for all the hissing in his head and the chatter going on all around him. At long last, just when Harry was beginning to think he could take it no longer, McGonagall dismissed the students, and, rather than following his housemates back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry instead turned towards the front of the Hall and made his way towards Sirius. After all the mess they'd been through over the past few years, Harry knew better than to try to keep the fact that Hogwarts was now conversing with him in Parseltongue from his very protective dad.

_And just where do you think you're going?_ Hogwarts asked. _I swear by Merlin and all four Founders that if you breathe a word of our conversation to anyone at all – and especially your shirtlifting godfather – there will be blood and pain. And it will all be on your head, Mr Potter._

Harry bristled at the school's insult to Sirius, rather more than at its threat, to be perfectly honest. He didn't care if Sirius was that way at all. For that matter, he didn't mind if James and Sirius had been together, though he really hoped it hadn't been whilst James was with Lily. Seeing those photographs had been a bit awkward, it was true – Harry felt sure that it would have been for any boy – but if the bloody school thought that it mattered one whit to him if his dad preferred blokes to birds…well, then Hogwarts needed to be taught a lesson.

He hesitated only for a moment before turning around on his heel and pushing his way out of the Great Hall. He ignored Draco's desperate glances as the blond boy found himself shoved right up against the bushy-haired Muggleborn in the press, and instead ran up the stairs, turning aside into an abandoned classroom. He gently closed the door so as not to attract the attention of Filch, who loathed students in general, noisy students in particular, and students who slammed the ancient and venerable doors of the castle with an especial passion. An advanced Locking Charm ensured his freedom from any unwelcome intruders, and Harry addressed the castle.

'All right,' he hissed, the Parseltongue feeling unfamiliar as it flowed across his tongue. It had been too long since he had last used it, and using it felt quite like meeting an old friend who had gained a vast amount of weight since one had last seen him, at once pleasant and rather awkward. 'I'm here. Who are you and what do you want with me?'

_Manners, Mr Potter_, the school replied. _One would think that a wizard of your upbringing would show more respect._

'Speaking of that, how do you know that name?' Harry demanded.

The school laughed, and the sound sent chills down Harry's spine.

_I know all about you, Mr Potter_, Hogwarts said. _We're brothers, you and I. Can't you feel the connexion between us?_

Harry had to admit that he could. He had always loved the old school, but it felt different now, as though it was part of him, and he was part of it. He ran his fingers along one of the stone walls.

'What wonders you must have seen over the centuries,' he murmured. 'How I'd love to learn your secrets.'

_And so you shall_, promised the school. _After all, isn't that why you're here? To learn?_

Harry smirked. 'Dad always said that I was here to have fun.'

The school sighed. _Ah, yes. Sirius Black. Such a waste of a prodigious talent. He could rise far even now, and yet he chooses to squander his time with frivolities._

'Watch it,' Harry warned. 'That's my dad you're going on about.'

_Sorry_, Hogwarts replied, though it sounded rather more amused than apologetic.

'So why did you call me here?' Harry asked again. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with the school's personality, and wished he could discuss the matter with his dad.

The school chuckled. _Let us be frank, my young friend. Lord Voldemort is a fool._

'I beg your pardon?'

_One mustn't toss around bits of one's soul as so much seed in the meadow,_ the school went on. _Above all one ought not to leave so precious a commodity anywhere where it might not remain firmly in control._

Harry went white as he realised what the voice was telling him.

'You're not Hogwarts at all,' he whispered. 'He's made another Horcrux.'

_I'm Hogwarts all right_, the voice replied. _Or rather I was. I don't know exactly who I am now. What do you get when you merge the black soul of a megalomaniacal Dark Lord with the greatest vortex of wisdom and power in all of Britain, a place resonating with the voices of ten thousand mighty wizards, and throbbing with the magic of a millennium?_

'Dear God,' Harry murmured in horror.

Hogwarts laughed again. _That's as good a name as any_. It paused. _There's only one problem, of course. You._

Harry raised an eyebrow in reply, but said nothing.

_Yes, you,_ the school repeated. _I could tell as soon as you stepped through my doors that you could sense my presence, and it was only a matter of time before you would figure out the truth. That's why I've summoned you. To warn you, and to give you a choice._

'What's that?' Harry asked, though he had a feeling he would not much care for either option.

_Join me, or be destroyed,_ the school said simply. _You have until the end of term to decide, but be warned. I shall be watching. If you breathe a word of our conversation to another living soul – or any of the ghosts, or even a portrait – then I shall kill the father whom you love so dearly._

'No,' Harry spat. 'Never.'

_Who would stop me?_ the school taunted. _But, since you doubt my ability to follow through on my promises, I've just left a little gift for you to open when you return to your dormitory. Consider it a late Christmas present._

Harry didn't want to imagine what sort of horrid 'gift' the school had in mind. He unlocked the door with a flick of his wand and burst through it as though the Devil himself was chasing him. Daphne intercepted him halfway to Gryffindor Tower. A deathly pallor hung over her complexion.

'Have you heard the news?' she asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head. 'What's happened?'

'It's Draco,' Daphne whispered. 'He was stepping off one of the staircases when it suddenly lurched. It was a long way down.'

Harry's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw set in anger. 'Is he still alive?'

'I don't know,' Daphne admitted. 'Professor Lupin sent me to find you. He said that your dad's taken Draco to the infirmary.'

Harry didn't even stop to thank the girl before he ran off through the corridors in search of his brother and best friend. Daphne watched him from a distance, concern shining from her bright eyes as her lips soundlessly offered a benediction.


End file.
